


Querencia

by Fightyourdragon



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Gift Fic, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2017-12-31 19:57:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fightyourdragon/pseuds/Fightyourdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mallory is extremely taken with Q, but he is also convinced he is too old and soft around the middle for Q to ever return his interest. Q decides it's going to be rather fun changing Mallory's mind. Featuring Bond as the amused, meddling friend and Eve as co-conspirator.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hedwig_Dordt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hedwig_Dordt/gifts).



> This is a birthday present for Agnes (you probably know her as Hedwig-Dordt), the greatest friend, co-author, and Beta a person could ever ask for! There are no words for how grateful I am to this fandom here and on tumblr for bringing her into my life!! She makes me happy just for existing, so I did my best to make her happy in return. I know this isn't a popular pairing, but I needed to fit all the things she loves into one story and Ralph Fiennes is up there on the list : ) Actually, I rather fell in love with these two and I have to say this story is my favorite of all the things I've written! 
> 
> This story has a slowly building relationship, so this first chapter is smut-free but I will make up for that in the next 22,000 words or so : ) I will post a chapter a day.

__

_**  
**_So many thanks to[dr_girlfriend](../users/dr_girlfriend/pseuds/dr_girlfriend) who took time away from writing her [Quriosity](889021/chapters/1714459) 00Q story (go read that next if you haven't, it's amazing) to beta this one! Any remaining errors are my fault. This is ever so much better due to her hard work!

 

Gorgeous cover artwork by [thislostcastaway! ](http://thislostcastaway.tumblr.com/)

 

 

 

__

_**Querencia: From the Spanish verb Querer, which means to desire or to love/be fond of.  A word that defies clear translation into English, but embodies a place where you feel safe, where you are your most authentic self; a place where you feel at home.** _

__

 

There is a serious problem with Q working for MI6, Mallory decides. True, the man is a model employee, and in the weeks following the Skyfall debacle he gets Q branch up and running as smoothly and more effectively than ever. He’s brilliant and utterly unflappable in the face of chaos. He delivers clear, commanding orders to his agents and branch workers alike. Even James Bond, the most notoriously difficult agent, just winks and does as he’s told when Q demands Bond get his arse back to Medical until he is released or so help him, Q will cancel the order on the new Aston Martin he has planned.

 

    The real issue is that Q is distractingly handsome and has a voice like perfectly-aged scotch and his hands...those constantly moving, enticing hands. Whenever Mallory is around Q he can’t stop his mind from imagining what it would be like to suck on each ridiculously long finger. Thank the gods that after they’d done the introductory handshake it wasn’t expected each time they meet, because apparently even at his age he still has to fight down an erection simply at the memory of holding that slender hand in his own.  

 

  It’s inappropriate as hell and he knows it. Q is 18 years younger than him; of course he’d checked, like the masochist he is. And Q is his subordinate. And even if he wasn’t, he would probably just be disgusted if a balding man with a bit of extra padding around the middle tried to chat him up. Especially since he has no idea about Q’s sexual preferences. Which he has no business thinking about. At all. Except for the part where he can’t help himself.

 

Mallory sighs, and even though he knows it’s pointless he checks a mirror to straighten his tie again and tugs at the sleeves of his best suit before heading downstairs for a meeting with Q. Now that MI6 has been back up and running for a few months he’s been meeting individually with all the department heads, just to check in and make sure things are flowing well under his new management. He can’t deny that he’s been looking forward to spending time with Q in his environment, though he’s nervous since he’s never actually been alone with the man. Once he’s outside the door to Q’s office he takes a moment to remind himself that this is a business meeting. He’s the head of MI6 for god’s sake, and he will act like it. He takes a steadying breath, raises a hand, and knocks.

  
  


It’s a good half an hour until Mallory is scheduled to arrive, but Q is already staring at the door and considering how best to make the man realize he is actually quite the opposite of off limits. Based on a few lingering sidelong glances and the fact that he hadn’t been sacked on the spot for acting outside of protocol with the Silva situation, he’d begun to suspect rather early on that Mallory was attracted to him. A smirking 007 had only confirmed it when he’d casually asked if Q had noticed that Mallory wants to fuck him against the tinted glass wall of his office. Sometimes having a spy for a friend has its advantages, he supposes.

 

At first, Q wasn’t sure how he felt about Mallory’s attraction. He knew the man would never act on it without his express permission, so he wasn’t concerned or uncomfortable. He was...curious. So he began to watch Mallory in return, though he admittedly cheated by using the building’s security cameras once or three times. He doesn’t feel more than passingly guilty, as he’s learned that no one in this business plays by the rules. At first glance Mallory wasn’t anything extraordinary, but the more Q observed the more intrigued he became. There was a quiet intensity about his movements, his carefully controlled voice, and the blue eyes that transformed his gaze from average to striking. Q had never been one to become immediately attracted to anyone, regardless of gender. Oh, he could acknowledge physical beauty, but he didn’t ever truly desire anyone until he got to know them first. Over the course of the three months since the previous M’s death, his thoughts regarding Mallory went from, ‘he’s interesting,’ to ‘someday I’m going to snuggle into that frankly adorable stomach and fall asleep while he pets my hair.’

 

Because Mallory, most importantly, is _brilliant._ He doesn’t advertise it, but Q did his research and discovered that the man holds a master’s degree in psychology. Not only that, but he has published dozens of articles in scholarly journals with titles such as, “A note on the estimation of the Pareto efficient set for multiobjective matrix permutation problems.”* Q has a definite intelligence kink, and knowing that Mallory’s mind is capable of understanding and writing on such a complex topic is an absolute turn-on. Just imagining lying naked and sated while Mallory whispers to him about complex subjects he doesn’t fully understand makes his trousers feel uncomfortably tight.

 

The question is, how is he going to convince Mallory he’s worth getting involved with? Because he wants involvement, not a quick one-off on his office sofa. He suspects it’s going to take time and good old-fashioned wooing rather than clumsy attempts at seduction. Truthfully, he’s rather looking forward to the challenge.

 

A knock at his door shocks him out of his reverie and he turns to his computer, quickly pulling up a screen to look busy before calling out, “It’s open!”

 

    Mallory opens the door and steps inside, his brows raising in surprise at the unexpected warmth and comfort the room radiates. After seemingly endless cold, clinical hallways and stairways on the way down, the office feels like a safe haven. Q is in profile as he types away, impossibly graceful fingers dancing over the keyboard facing three large monitors. “Is this a bad time?” He takes advantage of Q’s focus to sweep his gaze over the lithe body concealed inside clothing that looks at least a decade too old for him.

 

“No, no, it’s fine. I’ll only be a moment. Help yourself to some tea and make yourself at home.” Q gestures with one hand towards the electric kettle on the richly varnished mahogany table on the other side of the room.

 

    Mallory wanders over slowly, taking in the deep wine shade covering the three walls that aren’t tinted glass like the fourth, which affords Q a view of his subordinates working away at a series of computer desks.  The walls display framed paintings reminiscent of Monet, Turner, Degas, and oddly, Bosch. He selects a mug that proclaims “Bowties Are Cool” and an Earl Grey from the half-dozen options and adds creamer. Then he moves to sit on the wonderfully plush brown suede sofa since Q is sitting in the only chair in the room. The coffee table is also mahogany and covered in recent copies of computer science, engineering, and interestingly, psychology periodicals. He sets the mug down and his stomach clenches as he picks up a copy of The British Journal of Mathematical and Statistical Psychology that contains his most recently published article. Trust Q to have discovered it.

 

    “Do you approve of my reading selection?” Q asks, allowing a hint of teasing into his voice as he sits on the other end of the sofa with his own mug of tea.

 

    Mallory looks over at Q, caught off-guard since he wasn’t expecting to discuss his writing. The fact that Q is blowing gently on his tea isn’t helping his brain work any faster either. He forces his gaze off of Q’s tempting lips and back up to his eyes, which are filled with amusement. “Well it’s...that is...I suppose-”

 

    “You have hidden depths, sir.” Q smirks, delighted at the almost imperceptible flush of pleased embarrassment that flits briefly over Mallory’s features before he schools his expression back to one of professional distance.

 

    “I wouldn’t say hidden, exactly.” Mallory takes a sip of his tea and wonders why Q is interested at all.

 

    “So the diploma on your office wall is what, invisible? Because if you’re concealing that sort of technology from me I’ll be seriously put out.”

 

    Mallory laughs. “No, it’s in my flat. The field agents are complicated enough to deal with already. The last thing I need is them thinking I’m psychoanalyzing them every time we talk. You know they avoid Psych even more avidly than Medical.”

 

Q leans forward and asks conspiratorially, “And _are_ you psychoanalyzing them?”

 

Mallory can’t help a sly smile as he crosses his legs and shifts sideways to face Q more directly. “Well, I can’t reveal all my secrets now can I?”

 

Q grins back. “I suppose not. Where would the fun be in that? Besides, we all deserve our hidden depths.”

 

The way Q says it makes Mallory realize just how little he actually knows about the man. He knows him by his file and the few times he’s gotten to watch him work, knows he’s a genius and far more dangerous than he looks, but that’s all. Suddenly his inappropriate attraction feels even more foolish. “Right. So, how are things going down here? Are you satisfied with how your branch is functioning? I know you hired a few people and fired others, and expanded R&D.”

 

Q cocks his head slightly and tries sort out why Mallory’s professional facade slammed back down so quickly, even as he gets his thoughts back on track. He nearly had the man flirting, but something clearly went wrong. “Things are going as well as can be expected under the circumstances. Many of my people lost friends in that explosion, so their focus is understandably still a bit shaken; but they seem to be coping.  And we lost a lot of equipment, obviously. We’ve rebuilt our security network from the ground up so it’s as impenetrable as I can make it. We won’t have a repeat of the Silva situation. And while I loved Boothroyd as much as anyone, I have to admit his system of organization was rather...creative. I’m still finding boxes of half-built inventions whose use was never catalogued. Still, no major complaints.”

 

“Good, that’s good. I get the reports and I’ve been keeping a close watch on the missions, but in your opinion how are the agents doing? Are they still functioning optimally, or is the fear of corruption from within impairing their operations? I’m sure they feel the most betrayed in the wake of recent events. I’ve met with them each individually, but perhaps you know better if I need to do more.”

 

A rush of affection has Q gripping his mug to prevent him from doing something stupid like giving Mallory a likely much-needed hug. The man is compassionate even as he is calculating, which sets him starkly apart from the previous M. “If anything they’re just more driven, I’d say. And they’re using the recent surveys about equipment that would make their jobs more effective to request increasingly ridiculous items, so at least their sense of humor is intact. 003 would like a bra with padding that can be cracked open to release some sort of chloroform so she can kill next arsehole who thinks having boobs is consent. Her words. I’m actually working on that one. 007 however, would like a cloned velociraptor so that he can, and I quote, ‘scare those terrorist fucks to death and feed it anyone who asks me to fill out paperwork.’”

 

Mallory nearly spits out his tea. "I don’t suppose you could make me one while you’re at it? I could bring it to the next cabinet meeting to ensure timely decision making.”

 

Q’s pulse flutters because Mallory’s truly uninhibited smiles are rare and do wonderful things to the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. “Sadly, DNA over 1 million years old isn’t viable in the first place so most dinos are out of the question. Also, we would need to replace the nucleus and genetic material in an egg cell. The type of egg cell the DNA is swapped into is also significant. The cell would contain mitochondria, which themselves contain some separate genetic material. The mitochondria come from the animal that donated the cell, and that wouldn’t be a dinosaur — so the incompatibilities would be vast. Scientists would need a very similar animal to even consider cloning a dinosaur. Sadly, Jurassic Park lied to us and we can’t grow a velociraptor with just a pile of DNA.”*

 

“I wasn’t aware of all that. You’re destroying my boyhood dreams here, Q.” Mallory tries to look affronted, but a smile plays at the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t think Q has any idea that rambling off random facts is something of a turn-on. He’s watched a fair number of Q’s workers go all gooey eyed while Q explains something complicated in that soft, posh voice of his but Q has never seemed to notice.

 

“Blame science. I’m good, but I’m not Harry Potter.” He grins as Mallory looks shifty. “I control the security in this building and have access to all the information on the servers. I know all of my nicknames, and that one I can even understand. But honestly, what is the story with all the cat references?”

 

“I’m sure I have no idea.” Mallory looks around for something to change the subject and staunchly does not look at Q’s gloriously disheveled hair or think of comments regarding his theoretical cat hair stylist. At all. “I like the art,” he comments, because it’s true.

 

“Really?” Q perks up at the compliment. “Well, I suppose you are entitled to at least one of my secrets as well. I painted them, actually.” He fiddles with the handle of his cup nervously, because he’s never told anyone else at MI6 about his hobby.

 

Well, shit. Mallory gets up and walks over to a painting of a flower-strewn field at sunset because he really, really can’t look at Q right now. All he needed was another reason to be attracted to his young, phenomenally-uninterested-in-him-that-way, Quartermaster.  He steps close and looks at the precise brush strokes, imagining how Q’s hands must have been smudged with color as he  worked. He digs his fingers into his palms against the ache of longing. “They’re incredible.” His voice sounds false in his ears.

 

“Thank you. I started painting when I was rather young. It’s how I realized I’m good with my hands.” He grins at Mallory’s ‘hmm’ of acknowledgement that is very nearly a keen. He views the slight tension in Mallory’s stance with a sense of accomplishment.  “It translates well into all the detail work involved in constructing computers and all the neat little inventions the agents love so much to destroy. ”

 

“Well, you’re very good. And I’m sure it does.” Suddenly Mallory needs to get out of the room before he does something very ill-advised. Like ask Q to marry him. “Well, I suppose we should get on with the tour. Wouldn’t want to make your minions keep pretending like they always work this hard for too long.” He gestures towards the glass wall and hopes his tone sounds casual instead of strained.

 

“I resent that comment, sir. My minions always work this hard since they’re never quite sure if I’m watching or passed out on the sofa after a 24-hour shift.” He gets up and follows Mallory, who practically trips over his own shoes in his haste to leave. Oh yes, he decides, this is going to be fun.

  
  


An hour later Mallory strides into his office and pours himself a glass of scotch, imminent meeting with the prime minister be damned. That went both better and worse than he’d expected. On one hand he’d managed to maintain his professional composure and had been reassured that Q branch is running smoothly in capable hands. On the other, he had underestimated how much spending much spending even a short amount of time with Q would sharpen his hopeless desire.” He takes a large sip and sprawls back into his desk chair, letting his eyes fall closed for a few moments.

 

He’s more irritated with himself than anything, really. He’s too old for this romantic nonsense. He’d mentally resigned himself to spending the rest of his life working a thousand hours a week and being so busy he wouldn’t notice how empty his flat was during the few hours he actually got to spend there. Now most of his work hours will be spent a few minutes’ walk away from that gorgeous, intriguing man. And his expressive hands. And his paintings. Christ. He really, really hopes this infatuation fades with time. And that Q doesn’t end up dating anyone from within MI6 so he won’t be tempted to arrange a transfer to the Falkland Islands.

  
  


Q settles back into his desk and prepares to connect with 005, who is on assignment in Detroit of all bloody places, so Q is stuck coordinating with the Americans. Always a treat. He allows himself a few moments to reflect on M’s visit first. It could hardly have gone better. His workers had all explained their projects clearly and he had the pleasure of watching Mallory ask intelligent questions and offer valid suggestions and encouragement. The man really was incredibly smart. And attractive as hell when he was engrossed in an in-depth conversation. And he smelled like some spicy, expensive cologne that was only perceptible up close. Like when Q had leaned in to show off their newest nanotech specs and Mallory’s breath had hitched, eyes fixed on Q’s fingers as he swiped them over the tablet. Okay, deal with the business of protecting the world first. Then, he's ready to begin phase one of operation 'Get M To Date Me By Christmas.' Possibly he should work on that title.

  
  


Three weeks after his meeting with Q, Mallory is smiling fondly as he reads his most recent email from the man and wonders how the hell he got here. It had started innocently enough, with Q sending him a message asking for his opinion about a network upgrade. The message had concluded with a comment that Eve was taunting him about getting time off to attend the opera in Paris and that Mallory should tell her to be nicer to him.

 

In his reply Mallory hadn't been able to resist asking if Q enjoyed opera, and somehow it had turned into a daily exchange that started out business-related and then shifted to more personal topics.  On the surface it seems innocuous enough. They never discuss anything even remotely sexual or inappropriate for work. Still, learning little things like Q's favorite singers and writers, his favorite takeout foods and the fact that he has an irrational fear of zombies lurking in the London underground only serves to strengthen his attraction. And make him wonder if maybe Q feels any in return.  

 

Now the emails are the highlight of his days- Q even sends them on weekends- and the thrill of happiness he gets from seeing a new message in his inbox doesn't show any sign of abating. Or the feeling of disappointment if there isn't one when he arrives at work, since Q generally replies sometime over the night. He knows he’s probably setting himself up for getting hurt when Q bores of him, but he can't bring himself to end the correspondence. So here he is, considering his reply so he can send it before he leaves for the day. Just as he is about to begin typing there is a knock at his door. "Come," he calls, hoping it’s not a disaster at this late hour because he really wants to get to bed at some point.

 

Q walks into M's office and flops into a leather chair in front of the desk. "You really need a sofa," he declares, closing his eyes and rubbing his aching temples. He really should just have gone home, but he's exhausted after a shit day. What he really wants is to curl up in Mallory's lap and be cuddled, but the man probably isn't ready for that. Still, he hasn't seen Mallory in person for a week and even if it’s silly he misses him.

 

Mallory takes a moment to recover from his shock, because Q has never come to his office like this before. Like he's in need of comfort, and for some unaccountable reason he's decided Mallory can provide it. The rush of protectiveness and affection he feels for Q is very nearly a physical sensation. "I'll have one delivered on Monday if it means you'll come use it," he says without thinking. Shit. Hopefully that didn't sound like a come on.

 

"Excellent." Q opens one eye and smiles, thrilled at the promising response. "Right now though, I'd really like a drink. I know you keep scotch around here somewhere."

 

"You don't like scotch," Mallory points out as he gets up and goes over to a cupboard. "I have brandy though, how does that sound?" He opens the bottle that he hadn't in any way purchased just after learning Q prefers it.

 

"Like heaven. Long day. Thank god most missions only require one 00 agent because trying to control two of them is like herding particularly antagonistic cats." He gratefully accepts the glass Mallory hands him and takes a slow sip. "Mmmh, you buy the good stuff," he comments appreciatively, absently licking his lips then opening his eyes to find Mallory sitting on the edge of his desk and staring at him with barely-concealed longing. His stomach does a delicious little flip and he's tempted to reach out and pull the man in by his braces for a kiss. He could do it he knows, but the timing is all wrong. He doesn't want Mallory to panic since he is currently uncertain of Q's affection. It's time for that to change. "Thanks for letting me interrupt your evening."

 

"What? Oh, no problem. I was about to send you an email actually." Christ but that tongue is distracting. "You're welcome anytime, Q."

 

"I think when I'm half asleep and drinking with you after dark, you can really just call me Quillan. Do get the remarks regarding the coincidence of my name and title over with now, won’t you?" He lets just a hint of flirtation slip into his smile, knowing an expert at reading people won't be able to miss it.

 

Mallory blinks in disbelief, a dangerous hope taking root at the flicker of interest on Q’s, no Quillan's, face. He knows he can't take advantage of the opening, not when the man is exhausted and stressed and he's not even completely sure it was any sort of invitation. Still, his mind is a riot of ' _this is a bad idea'_ and ' _please let me have this_ ' as he replies,  "I suppose you can call me Gareth, then."

 

"Alright, Gareth." Q lingers over the name, savoring the shape of the letters and loving the way it makes the man in question bite his lip. He also appears to be on the verge of a panic attack, so Q takes pity and changes the subject. "So, what were you going to tell me in your email?"

 

"Oh. Right." He thinks for a moment while Q smirks at him from behind his brandy.  "I was just going to reply to your comment about not having a favorite Doctor. How is that possible? I thought everyone your age was obsessed with Ten since you weren't around for the earlier ones."

 

"I enjoy Ten of course,  but all of the incarnations are the same essential person. That's who I'm attracted to, regardless of packaging."

 

"I don't follow." Truthfully he's in no condition to follow much of anything since Quillan's eyes are so distractingly greenish-gold at the moment.  

 

"I'm attracted primarily to intelligence. The term is sapiosexual. With bi and demisexual slants in my case. Appearance, age, gender, superficial things like that, are secondary to me. The Doctor is brilliant, so I'm basically equally attracted to each actor. Have I lost you?"

 

"No, not at all. I understand the terminology, I'm just reconstructing my reality to allow for new data over here. This is all a bit surreal. This discussion. You, here, having a drink with me. I'm just...not at all used to it."  He drains his drink.

 

"Would you like to be? Used to it, I mean?" Q leans forward and looks at Mallory with obvious hope.

 

_Desperately,_ Mallory thinks, but wanting something and having it are two very different things and suddenly he’s a bit frightened at the possibility of actually having this. "Yes," he finally admits in a low voice.

 

“As would I.” Q finishes his drink then stands and reaches out to run his finger lightly across the stubble on his potential lover’s jaw. “Good night, Gareth. I’ll see you Monday.” He turns and walks out of the office, satisfaction and excitement putting a definite spring into his step. He doesn’t stop smiling until hours later when he’s finally asleep.

  
  


The following morning Mallory is lying in his bed thinking about Q, of course. Despite the offer to call Quillan by his given name, at this point he‘s too used to thinking ‘Q’ to mentally change it. He’s half hard at the very possibility that the gorgeous young man might actually want him, but at the same time in the light of day he’s filled with doubts. He runs a hand down his chest and over the rise of his stomach and cringes at the idea of lithe, beautiful Q seeing him naked. He’s old and soft and balding, and surely Q would be unimpressed despite his little speech on intelligence mattering more than anything. What if he does start seeing Q and then they don’t work out? Surely Q would do the leaving, and being around him at work would be awful. Maybe he’s better off not even opening himself up to this. But he wants it, wants Quillan, so badly.

 

A text alert has him reaching over to grab his mobile. When he sees it’s from Q he’s almost afraid to open it, but of course he does. It reads simply, _I’m thinking about you too._ He tries to come up with a proper response, something witty or romantic but every time he hits reply he’s paralyzed by nervous indecision and he just...can’t.

 

 

 

Q lies in his own bed, propped up against a few pillows as he plays around on his laptop and wonders if Mallory will respond. Though, there’s a good chance the man is in the middle of an existential crisis so he won’t. Last night was perfect, and Q has to rein in his first impulse to go over to Mallory’s flat and offer to share a shower. There will be plenty of time for that later. Now he has to make sure that when Mallory finally decides to get over his hangups and date him it’s because he finally believes he’s wanted just as badly in return. So. Phase two.

  
  
  


When Mallory arrives in his office Monday morning after a rather sleepless weekend spent obsessing over whether or not he should return Q’s text, which he hadn’t and now feels like a right berk about, there is a bright red beta fish in a bowl on his desk. “Moneypenny?” he calls.

 

Eve strides in with a knowing look on her face and raises a brow. “Sir?”

 

He waves towards the cheerfully circling fish. “We seem to have had a security breach.”

 

“Maybe you should take that up with security then. Dealing with tropical fish isn’t in my job description,” she adds with a smirk as she turns and walks out, closing the door behind her.

 

Mallory goes to sit at his desk, turns on his computer, and watches the fish. It really is rather pretty. Now he feels even more guilty for not responding to Q’s text because there’s no avoiding talking to him now, and after this long he’s definitely going to come across as the coward he is. But you don’t give a gift to someone you’re angry with, so maybe Q really is still interested. He just doesn’t know what to say, or what Q could possibly want with him.  

 

He’s too nervous to call, so he settles on sending a message over the network’s instant chat function. He struggles with wondering if it should be humorous or apologetic and finally settles for, _I think I’ll name him Rory._

 

He stares at the screen nervously until a reply comes in.

 

_Rory? Why is that?_

 

He lets out a sigh of relief. _Well there aren’t very many male companions to choose from. He’s lovely, Thank you._

 

_I decided you could use it since fish are meant to be calming, and I clearly stressed you out the last time we spoke._

 

He cringes. _I’m sorry. I’m not good at this,_ he finally types.

 

_Luckily for you, I am. I need to go be productive, but I’ll see you later._

 

A thrill of relieved excitement goes through Mallory at the realization that despite behaving like an idiot, Q hasn’t given up on him. After he signs off he opens his web browser. He can spare half an hour for his plan before he deals with the pile of paperwork that will likely take up the rest of his day.

  
  


Q has barely begun his project of coding the new batch of Walthers to specific agents when Eve comes striding into the weapons room, heels clicking dangerously. Fortunately he’s alone because he has a very good idea what this is about and he doesn’t want his entire department to know.  “Can I help you?” he asks, smiling innocently.

 

“I’m not going to waste time trying to be tactful, Q. What do you want with Mallory? Because he’s a good man and I’d hate to see him hurt. If you’re playing games with him, we’re going to have a problem.” She crosses her arms and looks menacing.

 

“I’m not playing games, Eve. And ideally I want to celebrate our tenth anniversary in Costa Rica, since I hear it’s beautiful.  For now though, I’ll settle on having a date for New Year’s.”

 

“Oh thank god.” She relaxes visibly and grins. “You two are going to to be so cute together! And it’s still early November so I’d say New Year’s is looking good.” She leans in and says in a low voice, “He is kind of sexy in an unconventional way, isn’t he?”

 

“Back off Eve, he’s mine,” Q warns with a grin. “He is though, isn’t he? The problem is going to be convincing him of that fact. I think he’s rather having a crisis over thinking he’s not young or attractive enough for me.”

 

“I’m sure you can show him you think he’s hot once you get him into bed,” Eve points out with a sly look.

 

“It’s the getting him there that’s the problem. He’s too self-conscious right now. I think the best tactic will be to seduce him slowly over emails and texts and visits for tea until he finally accepts I’m not giving up and asks me on a proper date.”

 

“Well let me know how I can help. This is going to be ever so much fun to watch! Okay, I’d better get back upstairs.” She hugs Q, then leaves with a wave.

 

It’s a long day as usual, so by the time Q makes his way up to Mallory’s office it’s already after six. He knocks then walks in since he knows Mallory is alone. It takes him a moment to register what’s different, then he notices the furniture has shifted a bit and there is a new leather sofa against the wall. He laughs in delight and goes over to test it out.  

 

“Like it?” Mallory asks, watching in amusement as Q sits and bounces on the sofa then stretches out on it with a dramatic sigh.

 

“It’s perfect. Maybe I’ll come take naps here instead of in my office when I really don’t want to be found by anyone other than you.”

 

“I don’t know, I might be taking it up rather frequently now that I have the option.”

 

“I’ll just have to lay on top of you in that case,” Q mumbles, eyes falling closed.

 

    Mallory bites his lip at the rush of desire that image creates. “I’m not sure that would be conducive to actual sleep.”

 

“I look forward to finding out someday.” Q sits up again and walks over to sit in the chair in front of the desk instead. “So, tea? I can regale you with the parable of the intern and the tranq dart.”

 

“Sounds like a perfect bedtime story.” Mallory gets up to make the tea and tries to convince himself that yes, he can have this.

 

The following day Q is in his office running a tactically complicated phase of 007’s mission, and as usual Bond is behaving inappropriately. Truth be told Q likes that about him, but he still has to do his job and at least _attempt_ to keep the man under control. Currently, Bond is amusing himself by trying to wheedle information about Q’s love life out of him. Well, perhaps wheedle is too gentle a term.

 

_“So Q, have you taken advantage of the fact that M’s door is padded on the inside yet? I’ve often been tempted to bring someone up there for some comfier-than-normal wall sex myself.”_

 

Q can actually hear the smirk. “007, would you please focus on the mission?”

 

_“I’m stuck here for the next fifteen minutes until the guard changes. It’s your job to keep me awake since I’m going on hour twenty-seven here. When it’s a matter of national security I feel you’re allowed to tell me if he’s a biter.”_

 

“For god’s sake Bond, these coms are monitored!”

 

_“Yeah, by you. Come on Q, give me something here or I’ll just have to start listing off sex tips. First of all, the key to rimming-”_

 

“Damn it Bond! Fine. If you must know, I’m still in the slow seduction phase of the mission.”

 

_“Let me guess. He thinks he’s old and ugly and you think he’s a silver fox.”_

 

Q rolls his eyes, but he’s actually surprised Bond guessed. “That’s a rather blunt way of putting it, but essentially you’re correct.”

 

_“I deal with this sort of problem all the time, so get ready to take notes from the expert.”_

 

“How can you possibly be an expert on this?”

 

_“Come on Q, you know that while people like to think being a 00 means seducing information out of hot twenty-somethings, the reality is the information is usually with the aging secretary who has a few more wrinkles and kilos than she’s comfortable with. So when I make them feel beautiful and desired they’re willing to tell me anything.”_

 

“Okay, but how do you do it?”

 

_“By finding them beautiful and wanting them. You can’t fake desire Q, and everyone knows it. Your pupils won’t dilate, your heart rate won’t elevate, you won’t tremble with need. You’ll be stiff and awkward, and your partner will feel self-conscious and all their body issues will be validated. I’ve learned to find something attractive in everyone, and that’s why I’m so damned good at what I do.  You just have to let M see how much you want him every time you look at him, let him feel it when you touch him. You need to be around him more. It’s easy to be uncertain about written affection, but in person he won’t be able to rationalize it away.”_

 

Q blinks in surprise. “That was...surprisingly insightful.”

 

_“Yes well, don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation as a cold heartless bastard to uphold.”_

 

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Okay, the guards are moving early it seems. Wait for my order then head for the door. It will be open.”

  
  


It’s been a week since the appearance of the fish, and Mallory is going slowly and quietly insane. The random gifts keep appearing. A playlist of gorgeous, relaxing music shows up on his computer. A stunning painting of the London skyline at sunrise, signed by Q, is hanging on his office wall like it’s always been there. And suddenly Q is just always there, right when he least expects it. In the middle of a conference call Q will just breeze in- he really should have a word with Eve but he suspects at this point that she’s in on it- and leave a set of plans, a memo, or a bar of chocolate on his desk. Of course Q does this by stepping up behind him and leaning over so he can feel that warm breath on his cheek. Then Q whispers something that could be considered completely professional were it not for the brush of soft lips against his ear and he can’t do anything other than try not to gasp into the phone. Just this morning Q had dropped off tea and a muffin while he was on the line with the bloody Prime Minister and had ‘accidentally’ dropped crumbs all over his lap. Which meant Q of course had to brush them off. Slowly.

 

And it isn’t just the random appearances. Q stops in every evening for tea or brandy before heading home, and the entire time he keeps Mallory talking about music or art or technology, safe topics with no more mentions of sexuality. But Q licks his lips and talks with his hands and looks at Mallory like he’s the most desirable thing imaginable. If Mallory had wanted Q before it was nothing compared to this physical ache. He wants to pin Q to the sofa and kiss him for hours. Wants to run his hands over the planes of Q’s body, wants to watch that collected demeanor crack and shatter beneath his lips and tongue. But he can’t bring himself to start something at work. He wants Quillan, not his Quartermaster. He’s still nervous, still afraid it will all fall apart, but he can’t handle the not having anymore. And the way Q looks at him...maybe it will be okay.  He needs a plan.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More happy birthday to my wonderful friend Agnes(Hedwig-Dordt)!! Even if it is now way past Nov. 8th feel free to drop by her tumblr and thank her for being born : ) All the hugs to you, darling!!
> 
> From here on in there will be both fluff and smut- my favorite combination!!

All the thanks to[ Dr_girlfriend](../../../users/dr_girlfriend/pseuds/dr_girlfriend) for her beta work!! Pop over and read all her wonderful fics next! 

 

 

 

Q spares a fleeting glance over to see who is coming through his office door, though since there was no knock it can really only be one person.  “Ah 007, evading Medical again are you?” He keeps typing, knowing Bond will just make himself at home as usual. He’s taken to coming here first to decompress a bit after missions since Q is basically always there, and already knows what happened, so he won’t ask any unwelcome questions.

 

“Possibly. But this time I’ve only got a few bruises and scratches, as you know. Thanks for that, by the way.” Bond flops down onto the sofa and lets out a slow breath, feeling his tension subside in the safe, calm environment.

 

“Just doing my job. Let me keep doing it and you can stay. I’m heading home myself soon though.” Q continues the boring job of updating the ballistics inventory.

 

“Hmmm. So, fucking Mallory yet?” Bond peeks at Q’s back and smirks at the sudden tension. “Ah, it would appear not.”

 

“I took your advice, and it’s working I’m sure. I half thought he was going to hang up on the Prime Minister and drag me into his lap this morning.”

 

“Maybe he just needs a final push. Jealousy can be a wonderful motivator, you know,” Bond drawls suggestively.

 

“If you are suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, the answer is no. You are not pretending to flirt with me just to make Mallory upset. For one thing he’s liable to send you to Britain’s unofficial time out chair-”

 

“I hate the sodding Falkland Islands,” Bond grumbles over Q’s rant.

 

“-and for another, I don’t want to give him any reason to decide I might not be serious about him.”

 

“Well you don’t have to flirt back,” Bond points out. “You can just-” he stops at the sharp rapping at the door.

 

Q looks over at the door in irritation. “What is this, an impromptu party? Come in, but it had better be good!” His eyes widen when Mallory steps in, because ever since that one meeting he hasn’t come down. Then he swivels his chair and stares at Bond, sprawled comfortably onto his sofa. Well, shit.

 

Mallory follows Q’s gaze over to 007 and an irrational anger surges through him. What the hell does Bond think he’s doing, lounging in Q’s office like he does it all the time? Maybe he does. Maybe Q likes having him around, and it’s no secret that Bond likes to mix business with pleasure. He knows his jealousy is obvious but he can’t be bothered to hide it. “007. I didn’t know you were back. Don’t you have your own office in which you can avoid doing proper work?” Bond, that arsehole, just smirks.

 

“Well, sir, my office doesn’t have a sofa in it. And the view isn’t nearly as impressive.” Bond decides Q will thank him later, and lets his gaze travel over the Quartermaster’s distinctly panicked form. “I suppose I can find something that needs doing though.” He stands, gives a little salute, and strides out the door.

 

Q turns to Mallory and gives his best apologetic look. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t. Bond is just a friend. An annoying, meddling, entirely platonic friend.”

 

“He wasn’t looking at you like he was thinking platonic thoughts,” Mallory points out, wanting more than anything to believe Q.

 

“That’s because he had this shit idea that if he made you jealous, you’d finally decide you should just ask me out since you so clearly want me,” Q replies in exasperation. “ As if I’d ever want him when I could have you. He’s hard as a sodding rock, and you may have noticed I don’t have a very high percentage of body fat. Sexual activity with him would be supremely uncomfortable in my estimation.”  He drops his gaze to Mallory’s stomach and lowers his voice to a seductive rumble. “I very much prefer someone...cuddlier.”

 

All of Mallory’s irritation vanishes to be replaced by a sensation of, _how in the ever loving fuck did I manage to get this lucky?_  “Oh. Right. Well good, that’s...good. Sorry I’m so bad at this, what you see in me I’ll never know.” He steps closer until he’s standing in front of Q’s chair. “I came down here to ask if you’d like to attend a black tie charity dinner with me on Friday. It’s at the Tate Modern, unfortunately. I’ve never enjoyed that type of art. I thought maybe I could bring my own,” he adds, then wishes he could take it back because it was a truly horrible line.

 

Q feels his face heat up at the compliment. “Really? Wait, is this a date or a come as a friend thing?”

 

“I’m asking you on a date, Quillan. Though sadly it’s not the sort of event where being overly demonstrative of my affections is appropriate. Nothing to do with your gender, more of an, ‘it’s a bunch of stuffy people sitting around pretending they know about art’ situation. It’s not that I don’t want to- I mean- damn it.” He sighs. He’s really making a right mess of this.

 

“It’s fine, Gareth. I understand I can’t exactly snog you at the table. When in Rome and all of that. Just promise me this date isn’t going to end at the door to my flat.” Q stands and slides a hand down Mallory’s tie. “I think I’ve waited quite long enough to have you naked on my bed, don’t you?” He looks up and his breath catches, stomach doing a little flip at the expression of sheer _want_ and they’re so close and Mallory smells so good and he can’t...he can’t… He leans forward fractionally and his eyes flutter closed.

 

Mallory can’t remember consciously moving, but suddenly his hands are on Q’s waist and his eyes are focused on Q’s slightly parted lips and he didn’t come here for this he’s fairly certain, something about not doing this at work, but he can’t… He drags his mouth lightly across those full lips then back again, not even truly kissing, just discovering. He does it again and Q makes a broken little whimper just as nimble fingers begin playing with the back of his neck and then everything becomes much more intense. He tilts his head and kisses Q’s lower lip, sucks on it lightly then runs his tongue across the top. He makes an undignified noise of his own when Q’s tongue follows and he finally knows what the man tastes like.

 

Q is shivering with pent-up desire by the time he’s finally kissing Mallory properly. It’s a gorgeously languid series of kisses, the perfect mix of licking and sharing breath and soft little bites and oh, he can’t wait to find out what the man is like when he’s not being quite so careful. He wishes like hell they were somewhere other than work, because he’s half hard and when he leans more fully into Mallory he finds he’s not the only one. When Mallory pulls away he makes a displeased little noise.  “This was not very well planned, was it?”

 

Mallory kisses Q lightly one more time, feeling slightly dazed. “Not really, no. Two days suddenly feels like a long time.”

 

A sudden thought occurs to Q. “Two days? Shit, it’s Wednesday. I need to find a tux by Friday?! Out, I have work to do!” He gives Mallory a playful push. “I’m going to have to go shopping now and get it all finalized tomorrow evening and...damn it, let’s try for more warning next time, shall we?”

 

“Sorry.  I just finally got the courage to ask you,” Mallory admits sheepishly.

 

“Well, other than brief work breaks I’ll see you when you pick me up Friday evening then. By what time should I be ready?”

 

“Six is good.”

 

“Ah, consider this your notice that I’m taking a half day on Friday.”

 

“Seems fair,” Mallory concedes with a pleased smile. “Do let’s try to keep your taking advantage of dating the boss to a minimum though,” he teases.

 

“Please. As if you aren’t the one who stands to gain in this relationship. I can set off the fire alarms during particularly long and pointless meetings if you ask me very, very nicely.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind. Until Friday then, Quillan.” Mallory takes Q’s hand and kisses the back lightly before heading out the door. He can’t remember the last time he felt this happy.

 

Once Mallory leaves Q grabs his mobile and dials rapidly.  “Bond? Get your arse back down here and call your tailor on the way. We’re going shopping because I need a tux by Friday evening. Yes, I’m aware it’s Wednesday! It doesn’t need to be bespoke, it just needs to make me look fuckable. Thanks, see you in a bit.”

 

He shuts down his computers and then dials Eve. “I need a favour. I’m going with Mallory to that charity dinner thing Friday evening and I want a suitable little gift.  Since I’m stuck tux shopping with Bond I have no time to go looking for one. The last thing he needs is another pair of cufflinks, so could you help me find something? You’re a lifesaver and I owe you one. Okay, gotta run.”

 

Bond strides back into the room grinning like a shark. “Ready to have some fun?”

 

Two hours later Q is distinctly not having fun. “This is the same damn color as the last one!”

 

Bond gives the tailor, a rather adorable grey haired man, a ‘see what I’m dealing with?’ look. “It’s not the same at all! This one has a subtle blue hue whereas the other was more gunmetal. Also, this is a shawl collar.” He turns to the tailor. “This one. With the first pair of trousers, they accentuate his arse better. And we’ll take this shirt as well, and the black braces.”

 

“Nice to see that you value my opinion,” Q grumbles.

 

“You’ll value it when Mallory starts drooling at the sight of you. Trust me Q, I know what I’m doing. Now hold still or you’ll get poked. Armond here is the best, and he’s doing you a huge favor by getting this finished in only two days. Well, he’s doing one for me since I’ve spent more paychecks than I care to consider on his work.”

 

“Sorry, I know. I’m just not hugely into high fashion shopping. Thank you, Armond. I do appreciate it.” Actually, he has to admit he’s never worn anything that made him look quite this good.

 

Thursday passes quickly since Q has to get extra work done so he can leave early on Friday, and he only has time to breeze into Mallory’s office, give him a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth while he’s on the phone, then wink and head back downstairs. It was worth the trip for the smitten look on the man’s face. Eve drops by in the afternoon with a silver fob watch bearing the MI6 insignia, and Q gives her a hug and then agrees to share all the salacious details of the date to compensate for her time. Bond meets him after work and they go do the final fitting of the tux, which does look incredible. He can’t see anything wrong with it, but Bond and the tailor circle him and make humming noises and insist on a few infinitesimal changes so he’ll have to come back to get it on his way home from work the next day.

 

Then suddenly it’s Friday afternoon and Q is heading home via the tailor shop to get ready. He hasn’t even seen Mallory all day, though they have been exchanging a string of increasingly suggestive texts. Mallory seems to have made a game out of seeing how many big words he can fit into each message now that he knows Q thinks it’s hot. By the time he makes it home it’s already 4:30, so he tears about the place trying to make it look presentable. He changes his sheets, then showers and shaves. He settles on contacts instead of glasses, then spends twenty minutes trying to make his hair look artfully tousled instead of simply neglected. By the time he gets into the tux he only has a few minutes to pace nervously before the door buzzer sounds. Apparently Mallory has decided to come up and get him instead of just calling him to come down, which is rather sweet.

 

Mallory takes the lift up to the top floor of the complex and walks up to Q’s door, his stomach clenching nervously as he holds the white silk scarf Moneypenny helped him select. He takes a steadying breath and then knocks. When Q opens the door he understands the meaning of the phrase, ‘falling in love.’ His stomach feels like the sudden drop of a roller coaster and there’s no stopping the inevitable downward rush. He’s terrified and thrilled at the same time. And apparently he’s lost the ability to speak. Q just cocks his head, eyes looking somehow blue-grey and even brighter than usual without his glasses.

 

Alright, Q allows, Bond was right about the tux. “I’m just going to take that gut-punched look and your silence as a compliment.” He shuts the door behind him and gives Mallory a teasing sort of smile.

 

“Yes. Do. You look...damn. How am I meant to get through the next few hours with you looking like that? I want…” Mallory steps closer and loops the scarf over Q’s head then pulls him in by tugging on it. “I can’t think clearly. I don’t even know what I want.”

 

Q shivers at the desperate edge to Mallory’s voice. “Fortunately for you I know _exactly_ what I want, so all you have to do is follow my lead. I think you’ll find that you enjoy it.”

 

“I do rather enjoy your bossy voice,” Mallory admits. “It’s a bit of a problem, actually, getting inappropriately aroused while you’re dealing with a crisis or telling the agents off.”

 

“Oh, I can definitely work with that,” Q murmurs before dragging his boyfriend — and isn’t that a lovely word? — in for the kind of kiss that has their teeth clacking together before they get the angles correct. “Do we really have to go to this thing?” he asks before sliding his tongue along Mallory’s soft palate.

 

Pulling away takes all of Mallory’s resolve. “Yes, we do, because I want to make everyone jealous. Also, I’m enough of a gentleman that I’m not getting into bed with you without at least one proper date.”

 

“Fine. This is lovely, thank you.” Q runs his hands down the soft scarf. “I got you something as well.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the fob watch, handing it over.

 

Mallory takes it with a thrill of surprise. “It’s beautiful.” He runs his fingers over the insignia. “I guess I’d better stick around now.” He opens it and looks curiously at the pattern of interlocking circles. “Is this…?”

 

“Circular Gallifreyan, yes. Couldn’t help myself I’m afraid. It reads, _Time to kiss Q._ ” He smiles at Mallory’s raised brow. “I really, really couldn’t help myself. Besides, it’s always going to be true.”

 

Mallory chuckles and does as the watch instructs. “I admire your confidence. And I love it.” He puts the watch on then steps back and offers Q his arm.

 

Q eyes him speculatively. “What if I want you to take my arm?”

 

“Oh. Either way is fine. Sorry, I haven’t dated a man since Uni and I’m probably going to cock it all up and-”

 

“It’s fine,” Q laughs, looping his arm through Mallory’s. “I just like to rile you up. You’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

 

“Be nice, Quillan. It will encourage me to be nice in return when we get back.”

 

“Damn your logic,” Q pouts dramatically. “All right, let’s get this fancy thing over with so we can spend the rest of the weekend wearing only bedsheets.”

 

“We’re leaving early,” Mallory declares, his mind doing all sorts of interesting things with that image.

 

They head down to where the driver is waiting and spend the drive with Mallory explaining the charity, the Great Ormond Street Hospital Children’s Charity, and describing the people who will be there. Q groans inwardly since he’s never been a big fan of posh events and all of the proper etiquette that comes with them. He supposes he may as well get used to it though, since Mallory has to attend a fair number of these sorts of events and he will probably want Q to come along to save him from being completely bored. Or help fake a national emergency so they can cut out early.

 

The event is every bit as fancy and full of people pretending to like each other as Q had feared, but at least the string quartet and the wine are good. He spends the cocktail hour pretending to be impressed when Mallory introduces him to people like the Prime Minister’s cousin and the director of MI5, both of whom are seated at their table with their respective dates.

 

Once they are seated, Q amuses himself by dragging his fingers up and down Mallory’s thigh beneath the tablecloth while they sit through a speaker thanking them for their generous contributions and _blah blah blah_. He hides an evil grin and watches as Mallory practically vibrates with the attempt to stay still, especially when Q lets his fingers slide up and over the flies of his trousers. He bites his tongue to keep from giggling when Mallory grabs his hand and holds it down firmly over his knee.

 

Since they’re both right-handed he can’t cause much trouble while they eat, though he does hook his right ankle around Mallory’s left. Then he mostly smiles and nods and offers short comments as Mallory discusses everything from global warming to world politics, and then gives a detailed explanation as to why that painting isn’t Freudian, it’s Jungian. Q squirms in his chair and tries not to get hard because Mallory is extra hot when he’s showing off his I.Q.

 

By the time dessert arrives Mallory is positive that he’s going to embarrass himself by making a mess of his trousers the second Q touches him with any sort of intent. Or quite possibly before, because all of these little touches and heated looks are driving him crazy. He can’t remember the last time he wanted someone this badly. And of course, Q insists on making little appreciative noises while slowly savoring his tiramisu and they are trapped at this damnable table and he’s about to grab Q and drag him out, no matter how rude that would be considered.

 

Once the dessert is done Q stands, holding a museum brochure rather strategically. “If you would all please excuse us, there is a new exhibit I’ve been dying to see and Gareth promised he would let me drag him along.” He smiles at the group and holds out his hand, which Mallory takes gratefully.

 

“Tell me we’re not actually going to look at the sodding art,” Mallory growls as he trails a step behind a nearly jogging Q.

 

“Hell no,” Q replies, dragging Mallory into a thankfully empty exhibit room and over to a door locked with an electronic keycode. He pulls out his mobile and messes with it for a few moments, then types in the code and practically shoves Mallory through into a storage room and up against the nearest wall as the motion-detecting lights come on. “Our second time can be more romantic if you want, but I need you to touch me right the fuck now,” he orders, grabbing Mallory’s hand and pressing it against his uncomfortably trapped erection. He whines and bucks into the pressure, his entire body shuddering with need.

 

“ _Yes_ ,” is all Mallory manages before spinning them so Q is safely braced against the wall. He’s never been the cause of such intense desire before and he feels powerful and needed and determined to give Q everything he wants. His hands are shaking and he’s equally turned on so he’s not sure how good he’s going to be, but at the same time he doubts it will take much for either of them. He moves his hands to grab Q’s arse firmly and pulls him close, grateful that they’re the same height so it’s easy to spend a few moments lost in the raw pleasure of grinding their fully-clothed bodies together.

 

Q was expecting, somewhere in his lust-hazed mind, for Mallory to just shove his hand down his trousers and wrap it around his length. But there is something even more intense and dirty about rutting uncontrollably against Mallory’s groin, hips stuttering as the back of his head hits the wall. He’s not even trying to be quiet and when Mallory’s teeth scrape across his throat and then bite down lightly, his strangled cry echoes through the small room. “Oh fuck that’s good. More. I want your hand on my cock. I need it. Gareth, damn it-” He whines when Mallory steps back far enough to shove the braces off his shoulders and begins undoing his trousers. “Oh, yes,” he groans when cool air finally hits his overheated erection. He unbuttons his jacket. “I don’t even care if you ruin this shirt. I want it hard and fast.”

 

“You _are_ bossy,” Mallory observes in a low voice. “I like it. Keep it up.” He can’t even identify the noise he makes when he finally gets his hand around Q’s bare cock, and he has to press a hand to his own because he’s so hard it rather hurts. “You’re incredible,” he breathes against Q’s lips as he tightens his grip and slides his hand up and down as far as the shifting skin will allow. “And there is no way I’m ruining that shirt,” he promises before sinking to his knees and guiding Q’s length between his lips.  

 

When he’s enveloped in the slick heat of Mallory’s mouth, Q is momentarily convinced he’s going to pass out from the pleasure. His eyes are fixed on Mallory’s, and even though he knows it will only make him finish faster he can’t look away from that electric blue gaze. He can’t keep his hips still either, so it’s a good thing Mallory keeps using his hand as well. “Tighten your fist and just suck on the head. Use your tongue. You’re perfect, that’s perfect.” He groans when he realizes Mallory is using his free hand to pull out his own length. “Don’t you fucking dare touch that, it’s mine,” he growls.

 

Mallory makes a frustrated hum of displeasure, and watches as the vibrations send Q’s head into the wall again. He’s knows he’s not going to last thirty seconds when Q touches him. He tries to ignore his own arousal in favor of focusing on the unfamiliar pleasure of sucking on Q’s frankly delicious cock. He grips his own tight at the base to keep from coming just at the taste and smell of him, the heightened arousal that spikes through him at each of Q’s commands.

 

“If you’re planning on moving you’d better,” Q pants as his orgasm begins somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach and sparks downwards, and then he’s tensing up as pleasure too intense to even make a sound flares throughout his body. He slides bonelessly down the wall, struggling to make his body obey him and see to Mallory’s obvious need. It isn’t working terribly well.

 

Mallory licks his Q-flavoured lips and runs the hand that smells like Q up and down his own achingly hard length. “Quillan! I need you to touch me in the next ten seconds or I’m going to finish on my own,” he pleads in a broken voice, beyond the point of caring how undignified he must look and sound.

 

Q scrambles forward awkwardly, trousers still trapped around his ankles so he has to shift sideways in order to wrap a hand around Mallory’s deeply-hued cock. It does look quite nearly painful, and Q is in no mood to tease so he slides his hand firmly and quickly, twisting at the top. Mallory is still kneeling, leaning back on his hands so he doesn’t collapse and his eyes are feral and fixed on Q’s fingers and it’s the most erotic thing Q has ever seen.

 

Within half a minute Mallory is shuddering and making this low little ‘ah, ah’ sound, Q cupping his hand to prevent making a mess of them both. He could definitely get addicted to hearing that, the sound of Mallory’s release shooting straight to his sated cock, his mind supplying him with tempting images of what he could do with that glorious mess were they in his bed. And how they could clean up after. Apparently this little encounter only served to heighten his desire, not dampen it. He reaches down to work a handkerchief out of his pocket and cleans off his hand, but not before he darts his tongue out to taste.

 

Mallory feels sex-drunk and his body is in a state of sated letdown, but watching Q lick his hand before cleaning it still has his stomach clenching with the desire for more. “Christ, Quillan. We’re still mostly clothed and I think that was the best sex of my life. You may very well be the death of me.” He shifts from a kneeling position, groaning at the ache in his knees, and sits alongside Q, who turns his head to meet him and they spend a few minutes kissing. It starts out lazy but quickly becomes playful and teasing and then Q is laughing into his mouth and all Mallory can think is, _fuck but I love you_ , even though it’s probably too soon to be thinking anything of the sort.

 

“You know, at some point we should probably get off of the museum floor,” Q suggests between kisses, even though he really doesn’t feel like moving.

 

“Probably. Good spot, this. I rather like that you planned it ahead of time. I suppose locating convenient places to have sex is one of the perks of dating a tech genius.”

 

“Lucky for you not only can I find the spot, but I can erase the security footage. After I save a copy for myself, that is.” Q grins at the interested look in Mallory’s eyes. “Who needs a wedding video when we can watch this on our anniversary instead,” he teases, hoping the implication of permanence is welcome.

 

Mallory feels a surge of relief that Q isn’t planning on this being a one night stand. “Yes please,” he agrees before kissing Q gently.  “Okay, I think it’s time to take this somewhere more comfortable. I want to prove I can last for longer than a minute when I’m feeling less desperate.”

 

Q smirks as he reaches down to take Mallory’s soft cock gently in hand. He runs his thumb over the tempting foreskin and asks, “And what makes you think you’ll be any less desperate?” before grudgingly getting to his feet.

  
          Mallory has to concede that’s a fair point as he glimpses Q’s gorgeous arse before he gets his trousers back up. “Well, once I get you naked maybe I won’t last quite as long as I’d like. But then I’ll get to experiment with the benefits of having a younger man in my bed. How many times can you come in a night, Quillan? Because I can be very, very patient.” He straightens himself out and then offers Q his arm. “Shall we?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued thanks to Agnes (Hedwig-Dordt) for being born! She is a wonderful friend and writer and deserves all the happiness! Nothing but sweetness and sex in this chapter : )

Thanks to [Dr_girlfriend](../../../users/dr_girlfriend/pseuds/dr_girlfriend) for the amazing beta editing help!! She is a wonderful writer- go find her fic next

 

 

The ride back to his flat feels interminable, and all Q can think is that he will _finally_ get to have Mallory naked in his bed. At the same time he’s a bit nervous, since they’ve never discussed sexual preferences, and despite the heady experience in the supply room it feels like they’re heading to their real first time with all the potential awkwardness of discovering a new partner. Mallory seems to share his nerves, because he isn’t speaking either, just holding Q’s hand and rubbing his thumb in soothing circles. When they arrive the trip up to the flat is equally silent despite the slow, consuming kiss they share in the lift. Q opens his door and steps in backwards, keeping his eyes fixed on his lover’s. “So, do you want a drink?” he asks in a low voice, letting his tux coat fall to the floor as he walks slowly backwards in the direction of his bed.

 

“No,” Mallory replies, dropping his coat as well. Q is biting his lip distractingly and not breaking eye contact and the atmosphere is charged with anticipation.

 

“Anything to eat?” Q slides the braces down his arms and undoes the bowtie as he walks, flicking on the bedroom light in passing.

 

“No.” Mallory’s pulse speeds up as he mirrors Q’s actions, pausing to toe his shoes off as Q does the same.

 

“Need to use the loo?” Q asks, wanting to make sure biological imperatives don’t interrupt them. The back of his knees hit the bed.

 

Mallory leans in and purrs, “No,” into Q’s ear as he begins undoing the buttons of Q’s shirt. He nibbles at Q’s earlobe as he goes, loving the tiny shiver it produces.

 

Q whines and tilts his head for better access, hands gripping Mallory’s waist firmly. “What do you want, then?” he pants as Mallory’s tongue follows the curve of his ear.

 

“Anything. You. I want to suck on your fingers, run my mouth over your bare skin, tangle my hands in your hair and worship the nape of your neck. I want you slick and wet in the shower.” Mallory nips along Q’s slender throat.  “I want to bring you tea in bed and feed you bites of toast while you do whatever it is you do on your laptop. I want to argue over what programmes to watch and whose turn it is to buy the milk. I want everything, Quillan. The question is, what can I have?”  He slides the shirt off of Q’s shoulders then takes each wrist in hand to undo the cufflinks while he waits for a reply. When none comes, he urges Q back up into the center of the bed and straddles his thighs while he gets the trousers open. He can tell Q is just thinking, not wanting him to stop, but he still does. “Well?” he asks somewhat uncertainly.

 

The riot of emotions Mallory’s words produce is unexpected, because until he heard them he hadn’t realized how much he _wanted_ to hear them. Wanted to know he was wanted equally in return, and not just for sex. “I want all of that as well. I just don’t like...that is I don’t prefer...penetrative sex. Giving or receiving. I don’t even particularly enjoy being fingered. Sorry. I would enjoy to do it to you, I just don’t...I know it doesn’t make any sense that I like to do that but I don’t like to feel it for myself. Sorry. ” He knows he’s rambling so he blushes and looks to the side, both wanting to see, but afraid of, Mallory’s reaction.

 

Mallory gauges Q’s expression and wonders who he needs to order 007 to kill. “Alright.”

 

“Alright? That’s it?” Q blinks up at Mallory in relieved surprise.

 

“Of course that’s it. You’re telling me that you’ll get me off with these hands.” He draws Q’s hands up to his mouth and sucks each elegant finger between his lips one at a time, swirling his tongue around and nibbling lightly, not bothering to hide his low noises of pleasure or the arousal in his expression. “Hands that you have no doubt noticed I’m rather obsessed with, and gods but I’ve wanted to do that for _months_ , by the way. And this mouth.” He traces Q’s lips with a finger before bending down to kiss him thoroughly. “And I’m meant to be upset that I won’t be sticking my cock up your arse? Anyone who's made you feel guilty for that is a bastard and clearly lacking in imagination. I can come up with a dozen ways to have incredible sex with you that don’t involve that singular way of doing it, and I’ve only been thinking about it for about ten seconds. I’d love to discover what you’ve come up with after years of experimenting,” he adds with a suggestive roll of his hips.

 

“That’s it, I’m keeping you.” Q tugs Mallory close and rolls them so he’s on top. “He begins unbuttoning the offending shirt as he asks, “Anything I should know about what you do or don’t like?”

 

“I don’t like gags or blindfolds or being tied up. Aside from that, I think we’re good.” He grins at the mildly alarmed look on Q’s face. “Well, you never know what people are into. I love the scratch of nails on my skin. I’m...afraid I’m not attractive enough for you,” he admits nervously as Q opens the shirt and bares his chest and stomach.

 

“Oh, but you are,” Q breathes as he runs his hands over Mallory’s stomach, mesmerized by the gentle curves and delicious softness. “I love this. You have no idea. Why am I not naked so you can see how much I love this?” He stands awkwardly on the bed and strips his pants and trousers off, tossing them off the bed then straddling Mallory’s thighs again. He’s already half hard. As he experiments with kneading at the lightly furred softness, gathering palmfuls of flesh and digging his nails in so Mallory gasps and squirms, his cock steadily lengthens, thickens, and he _wants._

 

Mallory props himself up on his elbows and watches in fascination as Q hardens, still not comprehending how the man can find a few extra kilos sexy but there is no way to fake that kind of arousal. He decides he may as well just count his blessings. “I think I’d like to be naked with you now. I want you to tell me what you want me to do. If you get to indulge a kink of yours I think it’s only fair I get to indulge in one too.”

 

“Sounds fair,” Q agrees with a grin as he slides off so he can divest Mallory of the rest of his clothes. He pulls his own socks off as well since sex with socks on is just weird, and then tackles Mallory back onto the bed and kisses him.

 

Mallory makes a low noise of surprise into Q’s mouth as his body struggles to catalogue the sudden sensory overload. Q’s lithe body is shifting on top of him and there are warm hands leaving goosebumps in their wake and it’s better than all of his fantasies put together. He’s not in a rush so he just enjoys running his hands over Q’s subtle angles and relishing the feeling of skin against skin, the way Q’s hard cock brushes against his own growing erection. He tangles his fingers into Q’s wild curls, bites at his jawline, groans as Q slides lower to suck his nipples into hard peaks. He laughs when Q nuzzles into his stomach and sucks pink marks all around his navel before dipping his tongue inside and making him squirm. “Tease,” he accuses fondly.

 

“Mmmh, I suppose I am being a bit greedy. You’ll survive,” Q adds devilishly as he kisses the tip of Mallory’s cock and watches it jump in response. He pulls up the foreskin, which is lovely and longer that he’s ever had the pleasure of playing with, and swirls his tongue around the inside. “I love this,” he murmurs. “I have a bit of a foreskin kink, so I’m rather excited about you being uncut.”

 

“Well then I’m definitely keeping you too, since you are by some miracle attracted to everything I feel self-conscious about,” Mallory pants as Q dips his tongue inside again.

 

Q looks up with lust-blown eyes. “I want to slide it over my cock. Can I? Please let me,” he begs. His last few boyfriends have all been cut and it’s been years since he’s been able to do this, but he also knows not everyone enjoys it.

 

“As if I could deny you anything when you look at me like that. Or ever, really. Go on, show me what you like. I’ve never tried it, actually, but anything that involves us touching sounds amazing.” More than anything he’s just happy that Q trusts him enough to ask for what he wants, and he’s honestly curious.

 

“Kneel up,” Q urges, so he can kneel in front. He wraps one hand around his own length to keep it steady and presses the head of his cock to Mallory’s, which makes his thighs tremble and his breath hitch. “Put your hands on my waist and watch. If you don’t like it tell me and we’ll stop,” he promises shakily. Then he gently grasps Mallory’s cock near the head and pulls the skin forwards until it slips over the head of his own.

 

Mallory watches Q’s hands shake slightly with arousal and that alone is a turn on, though watching part of Q’s body disappear inside his own is also intensely erotic. And it feels...he can’t even place it since he’s never felt it before but it’s definitely good. Then Q begins slowly sliding the pliable skin up and down, twisting it slightly and Mallory’s hips buck and he has to spread his knees wider for balance. “Sorry, I’ll try to hold still,” he breathes, eyes fixated on Q’s hands. “It’s just- oh- It’s not so much a physical turn on as a mental one. Watching you slip inside it’s...damn. Can you finish like this?”

 

“Yes. Someday I will. I have too many other things I want right now, but this feels amazing. You’re amazing. Fuck, Gareth, how can I have you and still want you so badly?” He indulges himself for another few seconds but then he needs more, so he tips Mallory over sideways, tangling their legs together as he reaches for the bottle of lubricant on his bedside table.

 

Mallory laughs at the sudden change in position and Q’s wriggling in an attempt to reach the table without having to separate them. “You know, you can just feel free to keep doing that,” he gasps as their erections bump in the process.  He drags his fingers down from Q’s extended neck, over his arched torso and thinks he’s never been with anyone quite so distractingly beautiful.

 

Q finally manages to grab the bottle and rolls them again so he’s back on top. Then he squirts some into his palm and runs his hand quickly up and down each of their lengths before scooting up and kneeling with his calves tucked up against Mallory’s sides so he can lean forward and undulate his hips, sliding their cocks against each other. He grabs Mallory’s hands and laces their fingers together to hold them down on the sheets for leverage while they kiss. With every thrust he revels in the sensation of his cock pressing into the softness of Mallory’s stomach in contrast with the hardness of his erection and it’s so, so good. And it’s gloriously messy with the combination of lube and sweat and saliva since their kisses quickly become too intense to be  anything other than gorgeously spit-slicked.

 

Mallory loves the sheer abandon of his young lover, the way he’s rutting and making delicious little moans and it’s better than he’d ever dared to imagine. This wild, hedonistic side of Q is all the more erotic given the stark contrast to his collected demeanor at work. He drags his lips down Q’s jaw and over to mouth at the soft skin below his ear. “I didn’t think you’d be this uninhibited in bed. You’re a constant surprise.” He bucks his hips up hard and Q’s rhythm stutters. “But I thought you were going to tell me what you want me to do,” he purrs.

 

“I’ll try. This. Just. Feels. So. Damn. Good.” Q pants, punctuating each word with a thrust of his hips. “First I want a hand with this,” he orders as he pulls Mallory’s right hand up to encircle their lengths as much as possible. “I want you to show me how fast you like it, how tight. Like that, yes,” he groans as Mallory begins pumping his hand up and down slowly  “Now I just want you to lie there and look gorgeous while I explore. Bonus points for making noise.”

 

“I can do that,” Mallory agrees as he pulls his knees up because this way he can feel Q’s arse against his thighs.

 

Q hums in appreciation at the extra point of contact and leans against Mallory’s thighs so he can reach back to drag his nails up the backs of them. He’s not entirely certain how he can be this turned on and still feel an extra jolt of arousal at Mallory’s strangled cry and the way his eyes slam shut and his back arches. “More,” he demands, digging his nails into the sides of Mallory’s arse.

 

Before long Mallory loses all sense of time and place and basically anything that isn’t the feeling of Q’s hands dragging over his skin, and the addictive pleasure/pain of those nails digging into his flesh and then skittering over to a new area before he has a chance to recover. He doesn’t want it to end, so he tries not to focus too hard on the slip of Q’s erection against his own but it’s damnably difficult. Especially because Q keeps shifting against him and their drawn testicles are moving against each other as well and Q is swearing and demanding he be louder and it’s too much. “I’m so close, I can’t- I need to stop if you want-”

 

“Don’t stop,” Q breathes, his fingers pressing pink marks into Mallory’s chest as he watches his lover tremble and cry out beneath him. He he feels a rush of possessive pride knowing that he did this, that if he has anything to say about it he’s the only one who ever will. He’s so close himself, and he’s beyond the point of denying himself anything for fear of what Mallory will think, so he reaches out to scoop up the warm ejaculate and smears it over his own cock and into the skin beneath Mallory’s navel. Then he presses one hand into the sheets and the other over the top of his erection and ruts into the glorious mess of lube and sweat and cum and that perfect, soft stomach.

 

Mallory watches in rapt fascination as Q moves desperately over him, eyes closed and neck arched with a look of utter blissful abandon on his face. He’s never been with anyone who was so willing to just give in to his desires, and it’s incredibly arousing. He’s also never been with anyone who so clearly loves the sticky, messy part of sex. It’s undeniably hot and satisfying on a primal level. Now he’s wondering just how far that particular kink goes, because he could have fun with that one. Apparently he can still discover new kinks at his age. How liberating. “That’s it love, you’re perfect. Just let go,” he encourages. A few thrusts later Q tenses up and his body makes tiny little jerks in time with the warmth that splatters across his abdomen and it’s a sight he’ll never get tired of.

 

Q slumps forward and buries his face in the crook of Mallory’s neck as his racing pulse slowly returns to normal. He feels wrecked from a second intense orgasm in a short period of time and has no desire to move anytime soon. He just lies there and basks in the warmth, the closeness, the feeling of Mallory’s hands petting his back soothingly. “I think you broke me,” he mumbles, snuggling in closer.

 

“I almost hope so because I definitely need a break,” Mallory replies before kissing Q’s unruly hair. “Okay, _that_ was the best sex of my life. You’re very...open. I appreciate that you tell me what you want. And that thing you did with my cum-” Q tenses warily against him. “No, I liked it. Very much, actually. I just didn’t know it until now. You’re amazing, Quillan.”

 

“I am, aren’t I?” Q giggles and squirms when Mallory smacks him on the arse.

 

“And so humble. And a mess. Fancy a shower before we’re glued together?”

 

“Wash my hair? I love having my hair played with.”

 

“I had no idea you were such a sensualist. I like it.” Mallory scratches Q’s scalp obligingly.

 

“Mmmh, that feels wonderful. Okay, shower.” Q sits up and wipes at Mallory’s sticky chest.

 

“Have plans for that?”

 

“Ish, no. It’s only fun to play with while it’s still warm. I’m not a _total_ freak.” Q winks then climbs off of the bed and heads in the direction of the washroom.

 

Mallory watches him walk away, just because it’s a gorgeous view, before following Q into a washroom that is at least fifty percent jacuzzi tub with an optional shower head. “We are definitely taking a bath at some point,” he declares.

 

“I had the room redone to add this, that’s why it looks rather cramped. Still, it was worth it.” He turns on the water and gets the temperature right then steps in. “Coming?”

 

“In a second, I’m admiring the view.” Q looks almost too stunning to be real with wet hair and rivulets of water running down his pale skin. “Will it start to bother you if I frequently mention that you’re the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen?”

 

Q blushes as Mallory finally follows him into the tub, because he’s never considered himself to be conventionally attractive. Too angular, skinny, youthful. “I don’t know. I’ll tell you if it does, but I doubt it.” He steps back so he can guide Mallory beneath the water as he reaches for a bar of soap.

 

“I can change up the adjective it that helps.” He sighs in contentment as Q begins running soapy hands all over his body and tries not to be concerned about his imperfections. It’s still difficult, even when Q makes a happy little noise while soaping up his chest and stomach. He takes the soap from Q’s hand and switches their positions, then pulls Q close so he can kiss him beneath the water, which only serves to make them laugh when water gets in their mouths and up their noses. He pushes Q against the back wall instead and begins cleaning him with slow, sensual movements. “How about...radiant.” He kisses Q’s neck. “Bewitching.” He runs his hands down Q’s chest then around to cup his arse. “Pulchritudinous.”

 

Q’s breath hitches. “That one. Talk brilliant to me,” he requests coyly, half teasing but also wanting to know if Mallory will play along.

 

Mallory reaches for the shampoo and pours some into his hand so he can wash Q’s hair as he talks, curious about how this intelligence kink thing works. “I can explain why you’re feeling so good right now, I suppose. Your amygdala is triggering emotional responses such as happiness and comfort. Passionate sexual activity and orgasm trigger the ventral tegmental area, which works with the nucleus accumbens to release the neurochemical dopamine. This activates the reward circuitry of your brain, since the rush of dopamine is what makes you crave things, become addicted to them. Essentially, dopamine is what makes you feel excited about something, to be ‘in love.’” He massages Q’s scalp and tips his head back to kiss the long expanse of neck. “The most addictive things strongly elevate dopamine levels. Alcohol, drugs, gambling, sweet and fatty foods. New sexual experiences. Porn.”

 

Q tilts his head further and luxuriates in all of the petting. “So you’re saying I’m in danger of becoming addicted to you? Oh, that feels wonderful. You can bite, I won’t mind.”

 

Mallory does, pressing closer and sliding his body gently up and down over Q’s. “Oh yes, definitely. And I you. Unfortunately, familiarity with a stimulus lowers the amount of dopamine it generates. After a while, the same sexual activities won’t generate what your body craves. Which is why people fall ‘out of love,’ or at least ‘out of infatuation.’”

 

“Well that’s rather depressing,” Q huffs.

 

“Hmmm. Fortunately, I know the solution.” He kisses Q languidly, a slow slide of tongues and lips as he tugs gently on the wet locks between his fingers until Q goes completely pliant against him.

 

“What’s that?” Q breathes, feeling completely punch-drunk as Mallory pulls away.

 

“This. Right now, our touching for the sake of touching, and not only for sexual release. It’s triggering the production of oxytocin, more commonly known as the bonding hormone. Incidentally, it’s the same hormone that helps mothers attach to their children. It’s the neurochemical that helps people stay ‘in love.’ Unlike dopamine, oxytocin receptors are thought to increase with consistency.  That means I’m going to need to touch you frequently. Kiss you. Show you affection that doesn’t include orgasm. That way it will cultivate the necessary oxytocin levels so that our brains regard each other as sources of safety and affection, not simply outlets for dopamine cravings.”

 

“That’s...incredible, actually. I never knew any of that.” Q sighs in appreciation as Mallory maneuvers him beneath the water and rinses his hair.  

 

“Well, age and experience are good for something at least.” Mallory turns off the water and guides Q back out of the tub so he can use one of the available fluffy towels to dry him off before doing the same to himself quickly so he can usher a sleepy Q back to bed. Truthfully he’s half asleep himself. “Any objections to trying out that whole ‘how many times can you come in a night’ thing later?” he asks as they slide under the covers and Q snuggles into his chest.

 

“Oh thank god, I really just want to enjoy finally feeling your skin against mine and be petted to sleep. I may have given you a bit of a false impression of my sexual drive this evening, but I’ve just wanted you for so long… Besides, we need to work on that oxytocin thing right?” Q yawns and throws a leg over Mallory’s thigh and nuzzles into his neck.

 

“Right. Thank you for tonight. For wanting me. For everything, really.” Mallory kisses Q’s hair and runs his hands soothingly over any bits of skin he can reach and feels so much for the man in his arms that his voice shakes with the force of it.

 

“Same.” Q presses his lips sleepily to Mallory’s neck. “You make me happy,” he mumbles, because he’s too out of it to compose his thoughts any more clearly. “I’ll try not to steal all the blankets,” he adds before giving in to the pull of sleep.

 

Even though he’s tired, Mallory knows it will be a long time before he actually sleeps. It’s a strange bed in a strange flat with a new bed partner, so he knows he won’t sleep very soundly but he doesn’t care. He’ll gladly go the rest of his life without sleeping soundly if it means he gets to share a bed with Q. Which is a ridiculous thought. They just started dating, it’s not like they’re moving in together. What would that even be like? Would Q get tired of him if they work in the same building and live together? Which of them would move? Suddenly his mind is in over-thinking mode. He sighs and closes his eyes, but he knows now it’s going to be hours before he can sleep. He skims his fingertips along the curve of Q’s back. Well, at least he’s comfortable.  

 

Mallory opens his eyes sleepily to pale light filtering through the cream curtains. He looks over to find Q lying on his stomach, sheets pushed down to his waist and his wild hair tumbling to one side to expose the tempting nape of his neck. They’d both left the bed at different points to use the loo during the night, and apparently Q changes position frequently while he sleeps so staying close was rather impossible. Still, despite the restless night he can’t remember the last time he felt this content. He reaches out and drags his fingers lightly down the curve of Q’s spine, just because he can.

 

Q sighs and arches into the gentle touch, his body shifting rapidly from half awake to tingling with arousal. He gracelessly kicks the sheet down the rest of the way and turns to look at Mallory, smiling lazily. “Morning,” he drawls, pressing his hips down into the bed suggestively. “Go on then, show me what you’re thinking about.”

 

Mallory scoots closer then drapes his body over Q’s, resting his weight on his forearms and reaching forward to lace their fingers together as he nuzzles into the nape of Q’s neck. He kisses it before dragging his teeth over the soft skin and downy hair, thrilled when Q moans and tilts his head down for better access. His own hips shift helplessly as he hardens against the crack of Q’s arse. “I was thinking that I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to wake up with you. But now I’m wondering how you like morning sex.”

 

“I like it very much.” Q wiggles his arse teasingly, loving the feeling of being pressed into the mattress.

 

“I meant specifically,” Mallory prods, followed by a gentle bite.

 

“This is working for me, actually,” Q purrs. “Can you reach the lube?”

 

Mallory has to move away to grab it, and by the time he shifts back Q is up on his hands and knees, cock half hard and a distinctly ‘come hither’ smirk on his face. He has to remind himself to breathe before asking, “What am I doing with it?”

 

“I adore intercrural sex,” Q replies, fairly certain Mallory will know what he’s talking about. “And didn’t you mention something about wanting to tangle your fingers in my hair and worship the nape of my neck?”  

 

Mallory would usually consider the strangled sort of moan that escapes him embarrassing, but it doesn’t him strike as such when Q’s eyes go feral at the sound. “Christ, what you do to me,” he marvels, draping himself over Q’s back and trying to sort out the angles. He guides Q’s hands up to grip the bottom rung of the wrought iron headboard and wraps his left arm securely around Q’s chest, then leans forward to kiss Q’s neck experimentally.

 

“You’re close,” Q teases, pressing his arse back.

 

“Impatient little thing aren’t you?” Mallory backs off enough to pour some of the lube into his palm. He considers for a moment before just reaching down to smear it messily between Q’s thighs, hand sliding forward to massage it gently into the soft weight of his testicles.

 

“Yes,” Q hisses, hips jerking helplessly in anticipation. “Problem?”

 

“Not at all.” Mallory shifts his stance so he can get his right arm back around Q’s chest, sliding his left hand into his hair as his cock slips between Q’s slick thighs. “Oh fuck that’s good,” he breathes against the nape of Q’s neck as Q clenches his legs together. “You’re not going to get off like this though, are you?”

 

“Oh I will most definitely get off on this,” Q counters as he begins shifting back to meet Mallory’s slow thrusts. “I just won’t come from it. But I love the closeness and feeling you lose control, and your stomach against my arse. I want to feel the warmth of your cum splashing onto my skin, and then I want your mouth on me.” His voice is already shaking from the intensity of having Mallory’s erection between his thighs, of being held firmly while his neck is being kissed and bitten and his hair is being pulled and he’s surrounded and cherished. He feels like they’ve been together for years, not hours.  

 

Mallory’s fingers tighten in Q’s hair and he makes a low ragged sort of moan against the soft skin held carefully between his teeth. He struggles to go slowly, to make this last, but it feels so damn good and Q is urging him on with fluid movements of his own and his voice...that posh voice carefully enunciating such dirty words is the hottest thing he’s ever heard. “The things you do to me, love. I promise one of these times I’ll last longer than a few minutes, but you feel so damn good and I’m looking forward to taking my time on you.”

 

Q clenches his thighs together tighter. “Faster. I want to hear it,” he urges, craving the slap of skin and the low, lovely noises Mallory makes when he comes.

 

After a moment of hesitation Mallory gives in and just allows his body to do what it wants as he sucks a light pink mark onto the back of Q’s neck. Rather than seeming uncomfortable with the inelegant noises of sex, the smack of skin and squelch of lube, Q’s obvious enjoyment of the act only intensifies, so Mallory decides he might as well just go with it. He loses himself in pleasure, his hips moving rapidly and his grip on Q’s slender strength tightening. At the last second he remembers Q’s request so he forces himself to pull away and after only a few more pumps of his fist he watches as Q shivers with pleasure as creamy strings coat his spine. Still trembling himself, he grabs a towel off the floor. He swipes one finger through a small puddle then cleans Q off quickly so he can guide him down to lie on his back on the bed. Before he can second guess himself he paints Q’s lower lip and then kisses him deeply.

 

Q whimpers into Mallory’s mouth in pleased surprise as the taste of sex, of his lover, suffuses the kiss. It’s incredible. He’s never found anyone so willing to indulge his kinks so freely, and definitely not so early on in a relationship with no hint of, ‘I’m doing this for you but you’d better realize it’s kind of weird.’ By the time Mallory pulls away to kiss a path down his chest he’s already overwhelmed. “Thank you,” he whispers, not even sure if it will make any sense but he’s not terribly coherent at the moment.

 

Mallory pauses to look up. “I’m fairly certain that’s my line,” he points out with a kiss to the soft skin just above Q’s navel. “Now tell me if I’m doing something wrong. I intend to be the only one doing this to you for the rest of my life, so don’t feel like you need to pretend to enjoy something you don’t, or you could end up with inadequate blow jobs for years. And neither of us wants that,” he comments with a wink.

 

“Honestly, anything involving your mouth on my cock is guaranteed to be amazing. I’ve always thought it was an especially nice cock for blow jobs since it’s not particularly large,” he adds with what he hopes is a joking sort of smirk but may have come across as self-conscious. Well, he’s allowed his own body sensitivities, he supposes.

 

Mallory scoots down and lies between Q’s spread legs so he can prop himself up on one elbow and take hold of the current object of his desire. He can tell this is an actual concern so he considers his words carefully before settling on, “I was thinking it’s an especially nice cock because it’s yours, and I love everything about you.” It’s probably too soon to say something like that, but it’s true and he thinks Q needs to hear it.

 

“That’s. Well. I’m tempted to brush it off by saying that’s the sappiest thing I’ve ever heard, which it rather is, but instead I’ll tell you that I...am experiencing an equal dopamine rush. In truth I think I have for a while now.” Q bites his lip nervously because this is crazy, six-months-in-talk, not first-date-talk.

 

It takes Mallory a moment for the meaning of Q’s words to hit him, and when they do he has to crawl back up for another kiss. He suddenly feels decades younger, and a thrill of euphoria has him laughing into Q’s mouth. At least Q seems amused and wraps his arms around him, kissing back with equal delight. “I love you too,” Mallory breathes against Q’s smiling lips. “Of course I do. How could I not? Now before this gets too deep, I’m going to give us both some time to think of what to say next while I finish what I was about to do.”

 

When Mallory’s warm, wet mouth envelops him a few seconds later Q decides that as far as tactics go it’s a fairly ineffective one, because all he can clearly think is _yes, more, fuck but I love you._ He grabs fistfulls of bedsheets and squirms beneath Mallory’s hands and mouth and tries his best to offer suggestions, but he can’t think for the pleasure so all he can choke out is “softer,” “circle your tongue,” and what feels like an hour later, “please just let me come.”

 

Mallory swallows with a thrill of accomplishment, then gathers Q to his chest and runs his fingers soothingly over all of the heated skin he can reach, planting kisses into his hair until Q comes down from the high of his release. His jaw aches and he’s definitely not used to the bitter taste in his mouth, but it’s worth it to have reduced his lover to this satiated state. “Still with me?” he finally asks, a definite hint of pride in his voice.

 

“Barely. Fair warning, I am so not going to be ready to go again until tonight. Dear god but you’re good at that,” Q sighs, kissing Mallory’s chest in contentment.

 

“So, what are we going to do until tonight? That is, if you want me to stay. Did you have plans for today? I recall you saying something about wearing bedsheets all weekend but if-”  

 

“Stay. Please. I can hardly kick you out of my flat right after a declaration of love, now can I?” he peeks up at Mallory cautiously.

 

“No, I suppose that would be terribly rude of you. I do though.” Mallory runs a finger down the bridge of Q’s nose. “Love you, that is. I don’t mean to scare you off, but it’s true. I hope that’s alright.”

 

Q swallows around the emotions threatening to block his airway. “Not scared. It’s good. No, better than good. Don’t stop.” Gods but he is making no sense. Apparently his higher cognitive functions aren’t back online yet.

 

“You’re adorable when you’re all blissed out. Must remember that. So, tea and breakfast?”

 

“Mmmh, five more minutes,” Q mumbles, snuggling in further and reaching a hand down to pet Mallory’s stomach, which earns him a long-suffering sigh. Eventually, Q vows, the man will believe how much he really does love that wonderfully soft middle.

 

When they finally make it out of bed Mallory looks down at his crumpled trousers with a frown. “So, did you actually mean we should wear bedsheets?  Because I didn’t actually bring any extra clothing along.”

 

“Well, I wouldn’t mind, but if you want something I may have possibly purchased you something comfy to wear around.” Q opens a dresser drawer and pulls out a pair of soft navy track suit trousers, holding them out for Mallory to take. “I just thought maybe...well, you know.”

 

“Full marks for confidence,” Mallory smiles as he pulls them on. “Why do I suspect there isn’t a shirt to go along with these?”

 

“Because you’re a brilliant man,” Q replies as he smirks and pulls on his own pair then grabs his glasses and puts them on. “So, want a tour of the rest of the flat?” Mallory nods and follows Q out the door.  “Well, this is it I’m afraid.”

 

Mallory takes in the open plan sitting room/kitchen area he hadn’t noticed passing through last night since his focus was definitely elsewhere.  “It’s as inviting as your office. You really are a sensualist aren’t you?” The flat isn’t very large, but it’s extremely homey. The walls are warm browns and plush looking rugs cover most of the hardwood floors. The sofa is a deep red and made of some soft material, and the walls are covered in paintings. Soft sunlight spills into the sitting room through two large windows, and Q has set up a studio at the far end where a half-finished canvas is resting on an easel. He walks around the low wall into the kitchen and asks, “So, do you enjoy cooking or should I make breakfast while you make tea?”

 

“Breakfast is the only thing I can cook without threat of burning the place down, actually. Aside from omelettes I’m afraid I live off of sandwiches and take out. Do you cook?” Q opens the fridge and begins placing ingredients on the small island.

 

Mallory fills the kettle and starts water boiling as he replies. “Sometimes. It’s not very enjoyable cooking for one so I don’t bother very often, but I do like trying new recipes. I’ll attempt cooking you dinner sometime.”

 

“Really? Would you do it wearing only an apron?” Q asks with a sly grin.

 

“Only if you do the dishes wearing only a tea towel,” Mallory replies, snapping Q on the arse with one that he finds hanging by the stove.

 

“Why do I get the feeling that we’re not going to get anything productive done for a long time?” Q asks with a laugh as he grabs the end of the towel and tugs Mallory in for a kiss. The omelettes can wait.

 

Mallory is surprised at how quickly the day passes, and how comfortable he is in Q’s space. They watch crap telly and cuddle up on the sofa alternately talking and kissing for hours, and he convinces Q to paint for a while so he can watch, and they order Thai and drink tea while watching the sunset from the balcony. “This is the best first date ever,” he declares as he takes Q’s hand. “Though a bath would make it even better.”

 

“Sounds perfect. I think I’m recovered from this morning,” Q replies in a tone that promises sex.

 

“Excellent. I like you all wet and slippery,” Mallory purrs into Q’s ear.

 

Q laughs. “Do you? How much?” he asks, slipping away and pushing his trousers off as soon as he gets inside. He wiggles his arse teasingly as Mallory follows him.

 

“Very much. I think I could get a DSM-IV classification as an addict, actually.”

 

“Is that enough to earn me a massage while we’re in here?” Q winks then begins messing with the taps until he gets the temperature correct.

 

“Anything you want.” Mallory reaches out and runs a hand up Q’s thigh and over his arse, smiling when Q hums in approval. “Your skin is so perfect,” he marvels absently.

 

Q turns and traces a finger over the still-pink scar from the bullet wound in Mallory’s left arm. “Yours is perfect as well.” He kisses the newest scar then traces the fading marks on Mallory’s chest and arms that he knows are leftover from his time in the hands of the IRA. “Perfect doesn’t mean flawless, you know.”

 

Mallory’s pulse speeds up even though he knows Q isn’t asking for information right now. He’ll talk about those awful months someday, but he isn’t in the mood for such a serious conversation right now. Instead of trying to respond, he tips Q’s face up and kisses him gently until the bath is full. Then he slips out of his own trousers and into the gloriously hot water. “Coming in?”

 

“Just admiring the view for a moment,” Q replies before getting in and leaning back against Mallory’s chest. “I like that I can feel you getting hard against my arse. Feels good.”

 

“Hedonist,” Mallory accuses fondly before sliding his hands down to tease first at Q’s nipples then down to play with the fine hair at the base of his bobbing cock.

 

“Definitely,” Q agrees, letting his head fall back onto Mallory’s shoulder. “Good thing you like that about me.”

 

Mallory lets his fingers press into the muscles of Q’s thighs, massaging them gently. “I do. You know, I don’t actually think the bath is the best place for a massage but I’ll do my best. We can finish it on the bed after if you’d like.”

 

“I’d like. Let’s finish everything on the bed. This can just be a nice warmup,” Q sighs, relaxing into the pressure.

 

Mallory reaches for the soap and lathers up his hands before reaching around to massage Q’s slender chest and then down his arms, still hardly daring to believe he’s being allowed this. “Any excuse to keep touching you,” he whispers into Q’s ear, loving the little shiver it elicits. When he’s massaged everything he can reach and spent a few glorious minutes just enjoying the feeling of Q’s erection in his hands he asks, “Trade places?”  

 

“Please.” Q tilts his body to the side, allowing Mallory to move forward so he can lean back into Q’s chest. “Don’t worry, you can’t squash me,” he chides when he can tell the man isn’t fully relaxed.

 

“Sorry. I’m not used to being the little spoon,” Mallory admits before relaxing back.

 

“I’ll give you plenty of practice. Besides, if you’re the little spoon I can do this,” Q comments as he reaches down and presses the tips of his fingers into Mallory’s stomach.

 

Mallory reflexively tightens his muscles, then forcibly relaxes when he hears Q’s distinctly miffed noise of irritation. “Sorry. Again. I just can’t see what you like about my least attractive feature.”

 

“It’s not your least attractive feature. That would be your propensity for self-deprecation,” Q replies frankly before leaning around to kiss Mallory on the cheek. “Would it bother you if I kept saying I’m too skinny when you find that feature attractive about me?”

 

Mallory cringes, at once knowing Q is right but struggling with letting go of his discomfort with his own body. “I- Alright, fair point. I’ll try to stop.”

 

“Thank you.” Q continues running his hands over Mallory’s wonderfully soft stomach, petting it gently as he continues. “I love how comfortable this is. It feels nice to play with. Breasts are just fat, but no one considers it strange when people want to play with them, which I think is just unfair. This is infinitely more sensual in my estimation. Try not to psychoanalyze my tummy kink and just let me enjoy it,” he adds in a teasing voice.

 

Mallory tilts his head to the side for a kiss, then sighs, “I love you,” against Q’s lips. Because it’s true. And he can say it. And that’s rather fucking incredible.  

 

Q wraps his legs around Mallory’s waist and grins. “Too right.” He runs a hand up Mallory’s erection and ruts shamelessly into the small of his back as he indulges, loving the slip of skin and the barely audible noises of appreciation. “I think it’s time to get out,” he murmurs, teeth nibbling lightly at Mallory’s ear.

 

Mallory stands and gets out to grab a towel then holds one out for Q. Despite his arousal, he can’t help a sleepy yawn as they dry each other off.

 

“Maybe let’s try lazy, sleepy sex,” Q suggests. “I know you didn’t sleep much last night.”

 

“Worth it. It’ll just take me a while to get used to sleeping with you. I haven’t shared a bed with any regularity for years.” Mallory pulls Q’s warm body close and kisses him deeply. “I’d love sleepy sex as long as it involves being able to kiss you at the same time.”

 

“I’m sure we can work something out,” Q promises as he pulls Mallory along and back into bed where he arranges them so that they are lying down, facing each other. He hooks his right leg over Mallory’s thigh and slides an arm under his neck, and then wriggles in close. “How’s this?” he asks as he wraps a hand around the erection bumping temptingly against his own.

 

“Perfect,” Mallory sighs, as he figures out how to get his bottom arm comfortably beneath Q so he can stroke his back. Then he begins gently sliding his hand up and down Q’s length, loving the contented hum it elicits. Then they are kissing and it’s even better, the slow slide of lips and tongue along with the unhurried movements of their wrists. The lack of lube means their motions are careful yet somehow even more intense. They don’t speak, communicating in low sounds and nips and shared breath, and their bodies fall into an easy sinuous rhythm.

 

Q loses track of time and is so completely caught up in sensation that the spurt of warmth against his skin takes him by surprise. The sudden slickness and his lover’s slight trembling has him arching into his own release moments later. For a while neither of them move, content to just cover each other’s skin with light kisses until Q decides Mallory is going to fall asleep sticky if he doesn’t do something. “Don’t move,” he whispers as he slides away to grab a towel from the bathroom to clean them up with.

 

“You’re amazing,” Mallory yawns as Q snuggles into his side. He’s more relaxed than he can remember being in ages and the slight tickle of Q’s eyelashes against his chest is the single most endearing thing he’s ever felt.

 

“Go to sleep, love,” Q smiles, deciding that adorably sleepy Mallory is something he could definitely get used to.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy ongoing birthday to the wonderful Agnes (Hedwig_Dordt)! And to dr_girlfriend for her awesome beta work : )

 

Mallory sleeps much better, possibly because he is so exhausted, but he only wakes up once in the night.  He wraps his arms around a still-sleeping Q and wonders how the hell he managed to get so lucky. He also really, really doesn’t want to leave, but they’ve managed to laze until 10 and he needs to get up and get ready for a meeting. Apparently the Japanese head of military intelligence doesn’t care about Sundays. He kisses Q’s hair and tickles his sides lightly. “You can keep sleeping if you want, but I’m afraid I need to go.”

 

Q nuzzles in and grumbles, “The Japanese are going to have a rough day in the stock market.”

 

“Now Quillan, no creating mass economic chaos on my account,” Mallory teases. “I’m sorry, I’d really prefer to stay here with you. You know better than most the crazy hours that come with working for MI6.”

 

“I know, but I’m still allowed to be cross.” Q sits up and looks down at Mallory, grateful that he got to keep him for as long as he had. “We’ll make it work somehow. You’re welcome here anytime, or I could go to yours.”

 

It suddenly dawns on Mallory that they really haven’t discussed the practicalities of their relationship. “Mine is far less inviting. I barely furnished it, really. So, about while we’re at work…”

 

Q rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, I know we need to act professionally. We work in a building full of bloody spies so everyone will know we’re together. We just need to make sure they don’t care. As much as I’d love to blow you under your desk on my coffee break, I won’t. I’ll wait until it’s technically after hours…say past six?”

 

Mallory leans down to kiss the sly grin off of Q’s lips. “Seems fair. Now I’d better get up or I won’t,” he says ruefully. Once he gets out of bed he eyes his wrinkled tux dubiously.

 

“Top drawer of the dresser.” Q waves his hand and watches as Mallory opens the drawer then pulls out the clothes inside. “I enlisted Eve to steal the spare outfit from your office.”   

 

“I knew she was in on this! Well, that rules out breaking your heart, or she’ll break my ribs. That woman terrifies me,” Mallory admits.

 

“I think she even terrifies 007, though to be fair he does have a good reason.” Q watches appreciatively as Mallory changes, and then gets up to go make toast when he goes to the washroom.

 

When Mallory comes out of the bedroom he finds Q naked and sitting on the counter, swinging his legs and munching on a piece of toast. “Nice of you to make it easy for me to leave,” he complains good-naturedly as he takes a slice of toast from the plate near Q’s thigh.

 

“Just making sure you want to come back,” Q replies innocently.

 

“Always,” Mallory promises. “Call you later?”

 

“Please.” Q tilts his head up for a kiss. “Have a good day dear!” he calls as Mallory reluctantly heads for the door.

  
  


The day feels endless to Mallory. He goes through the motions of being the responsible head of MI6 when all he’s thinking about is the way Q’s sweat tastes, and he can’t keep from brushing his fingers over the slightly sore mark Q left on his collarbone.By the time he makes it back to his flat it’s already early evening. Compared to Q’s place it feels cold and empty. He wants to call Q and ask to come over, but he isn’t sure if that’s too much. Maybe Q doesn’t want his life taken over so quickly. But damn it, he’s lonely. He sits on the edge of his bed and pulls out his mobile. He types out, _I miss you_. He bites his lip anxiously until a series of replies come just moments later.

 

_I miss you too._

_Pack a bag and come back to me._

_I want to suck your cock while you suck mine._

_Oh, and bring takeout._

 

Mallory grins and begins throwing things into a bag, wondering how the hell he can feel Q’s absence like a physical ache when they’ve only been together for a weekend.

 

As it turns out, the following week provides Mallory with a far better idea of just how badly he can miss his new boyfriend. Monday Q leaves for a brief conference. He gets back on Wednesday, just in time for all hell to break loose on 004’s mission in Turkey. Both of them spend an exhausting nearly 72 hours getting the situation back under control, so all of their interactions consist of briefly shared teas, texts, and one too-brief nap on Q’s sofa. Saturday afternoon they stumble into Q’s flat and barely manage to brush their teeth and take off their days-old clothing before collapsing into a deep sleep.

 

When Mallory finally wakes it is to the feeling of Q’s hair tickling his chest. “Morning gorgeous,” he mumbles, reaching up to pet the unruly locks.

 

“It’s only six am, but we’ve been in bed about 14 hours so I think it’s acceptable to wake up.” Q peers up groggily through the hair tumbling into his eyes. He really should get a haircut, he supposes, but Mallory seems to like the length. “Shower?”

 

“Not yet. We have to change the sheets regardless at this point, and you know you love to make a mess of us,” Mallory purrs as he pulls Q on top of him.

 

“I haven’t showered in two days, I’m sure I’ve smelled better,” Q protests, though really if Mallory doesn’t mind… He shifts his hips and sighs in pleasure.

 

Mallory rolls them over, and then kisses his way down Q’s chest to nuzzle into the dark pubic hair, cock jumping at the heady scent. “Sometimes I enjoy when you don’t smell like soap.”

 

“Alright, but let’s at least brush our teeth and I really need to use the loo. Then I’ll let you make an even bigger mess of us,” Q promises as he slips out of bed. He decides that while he promised not to shower, he can at least clean up a bit so he isn’t self-conscious, so he runs a wet washcloth between his arsecheeks and under his arms before trading places with Mallory.

 

When Mallory walks back into the bedroom a few minutes later, feeling slightly more awake after at least splashing cool water on his face, he finds Q lying on his back, legs parted as he idly strokes his cock. He looks for all the world like a debauched Botticelli. “Gods but you’re gorgeous,” he breathes as he climbs onto the bed and leans down to lick a wet strip between Q’s testicles. He smells like sweat and sex and Mallory _wants_. “Can I...I promise I’ll just use my tongue and I won’t press inside, but do you still enjoy…” he runs a finger lightly between Q’s arsecheeks.

 

Q shivers, wanting it but reflexively nervous after too many partners who thought that maybe if they rimmed him then he’d let them fuck him. “I can’t lie and say I don’t like it, but I don’t want to be a tease,” he says carefully, eyes darting to the side.

 

Mallory reaches up and tilts Q’s head back towards him. “I don’t like bondage. It’s...triggering. Knowing that, even if you like to tie people up, would you want to tie _me_ up?”

 

“No!” Q exclaims, his mind recoiling in horror.

 

“Are you upset at me for not wanting you to tie me up? Do you think I should get over it and let you do it? That maybe you’ll somehow be able make me like something that gives me no pleasure?”

 

“Of course not! I would never ask you for that, I swear.” Q’s stomach roils in nausea at the very idea.

 

“Well, that’s how I feel when I think about putting my fingers, or anything else, inside of you. The thought of pushing you into something I know you won’t like, of hurting you, is anathema to me. So even if I brush my fingers or tongue over your areshole, never think it’s me asking for more. It’s just me being a kinky bastard.”

 

Q laughs and rolls over. “Well if that’s all it is, I guess its okay.” He kneels then leans forward onto his forearms and wiggles his arse. “I rather enjoy that you’re a kinky bastard.”

 

Mallory’s cock jumps at the tempting view and he can’t help a low noise of appreciation as he scoots forward to palm each of Q’s firm arsecheeks.  “That may be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” he admits before pressing a kiss to the puckered skin and following it with a gentle circling motion with the tip of his tongue. It’s intimate and erotic and so very, very good.

 

Q whimpers and swears and squirms at the deliciously taboo sensations. He’s never felt this assured, this free to just let himself revel in the dark pleasure of another man’s tongue in such a illicit place. And Mallory is so damned good at this, his tongue wet and eager and he’s just as vocal about how much he’s enjoying the act. By the time a firm hand wraps around Q’s erection and begins slowly moving over his heated length, it only takes a few strokes before he’s crying out and coming all over the sheets. Then he’s guided down onto his back and before he can even offer to reciprocate Mallory straddles his thighs and Q watches as he brings himself off with less than a dozen strokes. It’s gorgeous and Q bites his lip, sated cock pulsing as his chest is coated in warm splashes.

 

“I’m sorry,” Mallory pants, looking down at the lovely mess he’s made of Q. “I couldn’t wait, that was too damn hot.”

 

“No, that was amazing.” Q runs a finger through the creamy puddles and brings it to his lips. “Mmm. Now we really do need a shower though.”

 

“Then food and tea and lazing with you in front of a movie. Clothing optional,” Mallory adds with a grin as he climbs off the bed and reaches over to wipe Q off with a corner of the sheet.

 

“Sounds like a brilliant plan,” Q agrees.

 

“So, what are you doing for Christmas?” Mallory asks once he’s massaging shampoo into Q’s hair in the shower.

 

“I don’t know. No major plans really. I’m an only child and my parents are spending the holidays on Mallorca. Is this an invitation?” Q tilts his head back into the spray.

 

“I was working my way up to one, yes,” Mallory grins. “My parents passed away years ago and I don’t have any siblings either, and no real close extended family. Would you care to spend it watching the Doctor Who Christmas special and letting me cook dinner for you?”

 

“Oooh, can we get a proper tree and trim it and everything?” Q suddenly feels excited about the holiday for the first time in years.

 

“Sounds perfect. Feel like going to pick one out later today? We only have just over a week left to enjoy it.” Mallory can’t help but smile at the way Q bounces on his toes and his eyes sparkle when he turns around.   

 

“If we go after lunch we’ll have time to bring it back and then go out again for decorations. I’m afraid I don’t actually own any,” Q says as he begins running a bar of soap over Mallory’s chest.

 

“Suddenly I feel so domestic,” Mallory teases lightly, then laughs when Q smacks him on the arse. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” Actually, it sounds amazing.

  
  


A few hours later it sounds less amazing as Mallory groans and follows Q to yet another tree lot because he’s searching for the ‘perfect’ tree. At this point, all of them look the same to him. “Yes, that one’s perfect,” he replies for what feels like 537th time.

 

“Really? I think that other one was more symmetrical,” Q muses as he eyes the small tree carefully. He can tell Mallory is getting annoyed, but he hasn’t had a tree in so long that he just wants it to be right.

 

“It’s green and pointy! Any tree you pick will look amazing once we decorate it, I promise,” Mallory replies, trying not to growl.

 

“Alright, this one,” Q decides, more amused than he should be at Mallory’s exasperation. He leans in for a kiss then whispers, “I’ll be sure to reward your patience.”

 

Well, maybe it wasn’t such a bad experience, Mallory decides as he helps carry the tree over to the attendant. They purchase a stand and carry the tree home, which is no small distance, so by the time they get back up to Q’s flat they are both rather exhausted. “How do you feel about getting decorations after work tomorrow?” he asks as they wrangle the tree into the stand.

 

“Sounds good to me. Ish, I’m covered in sap!” Q complains as he pulls the tree towards himself in an effort to make it stand straight. “I forgot how messy real trees are. It smells amazing though, doesn’t it?”

 

“It does. I haven’t had a live tree since I was a boy, actually. I’d forgotten how they make the whole room smell like Christmas. Ok, I think it looks straight. You?”

 

Q stands and eyes the tree critically. “I think it’s leaning about five degrees to the right, but that’s the trunk itself bending since the base is straight. Good as it’s going to get it seems.” He turns to Mallory and grins. “So, I guess it’s time to thank you for putting up with my overly meticulous selection process.” He walks over and slides his hands beneath Mallory’s jumper to palm the soft curve of his stomach.

 

“I’m not going to argue. What did you have in mind?” Mallory buries his fingers in Q’s hair and kisses him, thinking that even this is pretty amazing.

 

“This would be much more romantic with a decorated tree and fairy lights as a backdrop, so we may have to try it again tomorrow.” Q walks Mallory backwards until they topple onto the sofa together. For a minute he just indulges in straddling his boyfriend’s lap and kissing him teasingly before sliding down to the floor between his spread legs. “If you don’t object, that is,” he says as he begins undoing the belt.

 

“I don’t think I’ll ever say no to this,” Mallory admits, suddenly breathless at how very eager Q looks. It’s an incredible turn on knowing that Q truly loves giving head rather than just enduring it to please him. He lifts his hips so Q can pull his trousers and pants off, then laughs when the socks Q throws over his shoulder land in the tree. “Well I guess that’s one way of decorating.”

 

Q turns around and giggles. “I’m sure we can do better than that tomorrow.” Then he runs his hands from Mallory’s ankles all the way up his legs to play gently with the curls around the base of his erection, admiring the shiny head pushing out from the retracted foreskin. He licks his lips. “Gorgeous,” he murmurs before guiding Mallory’s cock down so he can suck gently on the head. He makes a low hum of appreciation at the sharp taste of pre-cum when he rubs his tongue over the slit.

 

Mallory leans back against the sofa and tries not to buck his hips, but it’s so damn good already. The sight of those seductive lips wrapped around him makes his heart clench with such an intense combination of love/need/gratitude that he feels as if his skin is barely keeping him in. He rests a hand gently on the nape of Q’s neck and lets his fingers play across the soft skin. “You undo me,” he whispers.

 

Q lifts his head and his stomach flutters at the look of desperate love directed at him. “And you me,” he replies before pressing his outstretched tongue firmly to the head of Mallory’s erection and using his fingers to slide the foreskin over it. He swivels his tongue lightly, then closes his lips over the pliable skin and sucks on it, pulling it gently. He wraps his hand around the base of Mallory’s length and pumps it firmly as he plays, knowing the combined sensations will break his lover’s attempt at control. He makes an encouraging noise when the head of Mallory’s cock is suddenly brushing the back of his tongue. He’s in the mood for uninhibited, so he fights his own gag reflex and slides down as far as he can before he has to pull back. Then he does it again, and this time he moves the fingers of his free hand back and rubs them testingly over Mallory’s perineum.

 

Mallory slides down the sofa for better access. “Please,” he pants, digging the fingers of his left hand into his thigh for control.

 

“I need...shit. Be right back,” Q promises as he gets up and hurries to the bedroom for lube. When he gets back he grabs the bottom of Mallory’s vest and pulls it up over his head and off along with the undershirt. “Much better,” he sighs as he sinks back down onto his knees and coats the fingers of his right hand with the slick liquid. “Tell me if I do anything wrong,” he asks before going back to sucking lightly on the heated length as he runs a slick finger over the downy hair surrounding Mallory’s arsehole.

 

Mallory’s breath hitches at the intimate sensation. “I doubt that’s possible. I enjoy being fingered, though maybe only with two or three at the most.” His hips stutter, his body already struggling to press both up into Q’s mouth and back onto his finger.

 

Q spends a minute just circling a finger lightly against the puckered skin, reveling in the low helpless noises and the increased grip on his hair as he slides his mouth up and down. Then he presses one finger inside slowly, marveling at the way Mallory’s body clenches down and then almost immediately relaxes to allow him entrance. His own cock jumps when his finger can’t go any further and he wiggles it gently, entranced by the way he can actually feel Mallory’s pulse in the tight press against his skin. He enjoys using his fingers as a means of penetration for the control it affords him, the fact that he knows he can go slowly and his fingers can bend and twist and create deliberately targeted pleasure. By the time he is working two fingers gently over Mallorys’ prostate, alternately pressing and rubbing as the taste of pre-cum coats his tongue, he is nearly as close to orgasm as the man coming apart beneath his hands and mouth.

 

Mallory is fairly certain he’s going to black out once he comes because his entire body is vibrating with barely-contained pleasure. He’s sweating and he’s lost complete control of the rocking motions of his hips and he has Q’s gorgeous fingers inside of him and that sinful mouth surrounding him and it feels _so damn good_. He can’t even talk, all he can do is make a low desperate noise and assume the tightening of his muscles is enough warning before a ripple of electric pleasure sparks out across his entire body, his head dropping back against the sofa as he arches helplessly. He struggles to remain coherent as Q makes a broken sound and he hears the sound of a zip opening, but he doesn’t have the capacity to do much more than ask, “Please,” and tug at Q’s hair.

 

Q scrambles gracelessly out of his trousers and pants, and then hurriedly straddles Mallory’s lap. He uses the lube on his fingers to coat his own cock and then guides Mallory’s hand over to grip it so he can fuck up into the loose fist. He’s tensing up and making a mess of Mallory’s chest less than a minute later, then he flops forward and breathes shakily into the crook of Mallory’s neck, darting his tongue out to taste the sweat.

 

Mallory holds Q close as they both calm back down, petting his skin soothingly. “If you really think you can do better, I’m definitely looking forward to trying it again with the fairy lights involved,” he declares once he finally trusts his voice.

 

“O ye of little faith,” Q mumbles. “Ok, now it’s time for Indian delivery and a movie. Once I feel like moving.”

 

“I’m never going to be the first one to make any effort to get you off of my lap, just so you’re aware.” Mallory kisses Q’s hair and looks at their tree and finds he’s actually looking forward to decorating one-- to the holidays in general-- for the first time in years.

 

Just over twenty-four hours later, Mallory is re-thinking his assessment of the joys of decorating as they are in the middle of their first real fight in the Christmas lights aisle at their local hardware store. “I’m just saying that colored lights look garish! Who puts colored lights on their tree?”

 

Q glares and resists the urge to stomp his feet like an angry child, but it’s a near thing. “People who have a sense of artistry! White lights are boring and dull. We always had colored lights on our tree when I was growing up.”

 

“Well we always had white lights so the tree didn’t end up looking like a deranged Picasso once all the colored ornaments were on!” Mallory counters, stubbornly waving his box of white lights around.

 

Q narrows his eyes and drops three boxes of colored lights into their basket. “Well, it’s my flat, so I get the final say. You can pick out the star for the top.”

 

“What star? Angels go on the tops of Christmas trees!” Mallory grits out in an exasperated voice.

 

“An angel? No, I’m sorry, there will be no imaginary creatures on our tree,” Q declares perfunctorily.

 

“Oh, and flying reindeer suddenly abound?” Mallory snaps, pointing at the Rudolph on the tin of shortbread Q selected earlier.

 

“What? That’s not the point- they don’t- well, not on my tree!” Q sputters, feeling more irritated than he knows the situation warrants.

 

“So you get to pick the lights and the decorations and I get to what, just smile and nod like a good boyfriend? I’m sorry, but if you think I’m sucking your cock under colored lights and a sodding star you’ve got-” Mallory shuts up quickly at the wide-eyed look of panic on Q’s face. He flinches, and sure enough a second later a horrified squeak comes from behind him. He turns, an apology already forming on his lips, to see a silver-haired woman hurrying away down the aisle.  

 

“Perverts! I’m seeing management about this!” The woman calls out over her shoulder.

 

Mallory turns back to Q who is red-faced but shaking with silent laughter. “Maybe we should-”

 

“Get out of here, yes,” Q agrees, abandoning their shopping and grabbing Mallory’s hand to begin hurrying him towards the exit.

 

They stumble out onto the pavement laughing and don’t stop their near-run until they round at least two corners. Finally Mallory pulls Q into an alley and presses him against a wall so he can kiss him, which isn’t easy when they are still both smiling too widely to properly press their lips together. “That was ridiculous,” he says, loving the way loving the way Q's eyes sparkle and the little crinkles of skin that form at the corners when he smiles.

 

“Agreed.” Q wipes at his eyes, any residual irritation gone. “Sorry I was being an arse. It’s fine if the lights are white.”

 

“I’m sorry as well. They can be colored just as easily. So, did we just survive our first fight?”

 

“I think we did. No makeup sex until we get our decorations though, and now we need to take the tube to another shop where we will behave like the adults responsible for the security of this great country that we are.”

 

“Fine. But then the makeup sex,” Mallory grins as he straightens Q’s hair before leading him back out onto the street.

 

In the end they come home with white lights, colored bulbs, and a Dalek tree topper of all things, because neither of them could quite resist. They get as far as stringing the lights before Mallory picks Q up, tosses him onto the sofa, and sees to it that his lover comes once before their clothes are even off. And then again, before they finally wander into the kitchen naked and make sandwiches as a late dinner, then fall asleep wrapped around each other.

  
  


Over the course of the next week, Mallory discovers he minded working crazy hours much less before he had someone he wanted to share his free time with. Now when it nears six and he is stuck in a meeting, or dealing with paperwork, or staving off a national disaster, he starts feeling anxious to leave. And sometimes when he is free Q isn’t, because he has his own long list of responsibilities. It’s the reality of their lives and on one level he understands that, knows their jobs need doing and that they honestly both love what they do, but it doesn’t actually make being apart so much any easier. Tuesday is a week from Christmas and they still don’t manage to decorate their tree since Q is stuck working until 9, so Mallory just goes home alone. They don’t even manage to see each other, just send flirtatious messages via text.

 

Mallory is stuck working late Wednesday but comes over to Q’s flat anyway, arriving at 9 to find his boyfriend caught up in a project involving a tablet and a confusing bunch of wires and switches that somehow make the tree lights dance to a playlist of Christmas music. Q shows Mallory gleefully, bouncing adorably on his toes as the lights alternately run and flash, each string operating independently. Sometimes only part of each string lights up, and the effect is rather impressive. By the time Mallory is done showing Q exactly _how_ impressed he is they fall asleep before actually doing any decorating.   

 

Thursday they manage to stay busy all day again and when it becomes clear to Q that it’s going to be an all- nighter and he won’t be going home until 006 completes his mission, he uses a lull in the early evening action to run up to Mallory’s office. Before Mallory even has a chance to say anything Q pulls him up out of his chair and kisses him, walking him backwards until his back hits the padding of the office door. He’s feeling particularly desperate to make a mess of his boyfriend, so he just opens the offending trousers and shoves his hand inside to find the still mostly-soft cock. He shifts so that he can ride Mallory’s thigh as he brings his writhing, desperately-trying-to-remain-silent, boyfriend off quick and dirty. Then he takes his own erection out and adds to the mess of Mallory’s trousers with only a few pulls. He tucks himself back in and whispers, “you may want to put on your spare pair before leaving the room.” Then he saunters out the door, leaving his breathless and shocked lover behind and feeling particularly pleased with himself.

 

Friday Q wakes to the weight of someone sitting on the end of the sofa he’s curled up on in his office.  He stretches his feet out into a warm lap, humming in contentment.

 

“You know, you really should watch your security. It only took me glaring at two minions and casually pulling out my gun to gain me access to the inner sanctum,” Bond points out in amusement.

 

Q’s eyes fly open and he sits up groggily. “007? What the the hell are you doing in here?”

 

“Giving out free foot rubs, apparently,” Bond smirks, running his thumbs over the base of Q’s left foot.

 

Q pulls his feet away and sits up hazily. “Save it for the field, agent. Ugh I need a shower,” he groans, running a hand through his hair. “What time is it anyways?”

 

“Nearly two. But I hear you didn’t crash until about 6 this morning so I’m sure you needed the sleep. Did I interrupt you dreaming about fucking Mallory over his desk?” Bond asks teasingly.

 

“How you remain single is one of the mysteries of the universe,” Q snarks. “Now bring me tea if you don’t want your next mission to be to Wisconsin.”

 

“Tyrant,” Bond accuses, getting up and going over to the electric kettle before rummaging around in the drawer for biscuits. “So, how are things with the man upstairs?”

 

“Amazing, actually,” Q replies from his desk as he wakes up his computer.

 

“Excellent. I imagine regular sex will keep him in such a good mood he won’t be nearly as upset as he could be the next time I wreck a few hundred thousand pounds’ worth of government-issued equipment.” Bond carries the biscuits over to Q and sets them on the desk, then leans back against it. “So, are you two coming to Eve’s Christmas Eve party? And consequently, are you having as difficult a time refraining from making jokes about that little name coincidence as I am?”

 

“Maybe, and definitely. We haven’t really discussed it.”

 

“What’s to discuss? It’s a prime opportunity to gain blackmail material as your fellow workers drink far too much and decide table dancing is an excellent activity. I still get Tanner to see things my way by flashing the picture I snapped last year of him wearing antlers and doing an impersonation of Boothroyd.”

 

“Note to self: don’t drink too much egg nog,” Q declares as he opens his email to see what he missed. “Oh for the love of- I don’t suppose you’re in the mood to go make Anderson in Accounting’s death look like a freak toner incident are you? I swear if I get one more request to ‘just make it so he can write on the PDF’ I’m going eliminate him myself.”

 

    “While that sounds like fun, I’d much rather press you for scandalous details about our fearless leader. Does he have any interesting kinks like wearing pink satin undies?” Bond ducks the pen that comes flying his way and flees to go make the tea.

 

    “You’ll die wondering, 007.” Q rolls his eyes and picks up his mobile. He has five texts from the man in question, and he smiles as he reads them. They are all variations on ‘I love you and I miss you, and I want to spend all day tomorrow in bed with you.’

 

    James brings Q a steaming mug and sets it on the desk. “Spoilsport. You’re happy though. I’m glad.”

 

    Q looks up at Bond, caught off-guard again by how genuinely caring the licensed killer can be when he chooses. “I am. Alright, I’ll convince Mallory to attend the party. Are you bringing anyone special?”

 

    “Oh, we’ll see. I have a few days yet to find her,” Bond quips, easy smile in place.

 

    “I’m sure you will,” Q offers, uncertain whether Bond’s tone is wistful or joking.

 

“Hmmm. Well, we can’t all be as lucky as you,” Bond muses before his tone returns to carefree. “I’ll see you there then. Have a good day, Quartermaster.” Bond salutes, then heads out the door.

 

A minute later the door opens again and Q calls, “Honestly 007-” before turning and realizing it’s Mallory.

 

“Bond again? Should I be jealous?” Mallory asks as he enters, stomach fluttering at the sight of Q looking so adorably rumpled.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Q replies, standing so he can wrap his arms around his boyfriend and bury his face in the crook of his neck. “I’ll be professional in a minute, but right now I just need a hug,” he admits.

 

“Anytime.” Mallory kisses Q’s hair and holds him tight. “How about tonight we go back to your place and take a bath, and then just snuggle up on the sofa and watch crap telly until you fall asleep and I have to carry you to bed?”

 

Q holds on another moment before reluctantly stepping away. “Sounds perfect. Oh, and I told Bond we would at least make an appearance at Eve’s party.”

 

“I suppose it’s too much to hope that she won’t have some strategically-placed mistletoe. She’s been giving me suggestive looks all week.”

 

“Probably. Do you...ah, do you mind...well, it’s one thing for people to know and another for them to have proof that we’re…” Q waves vaguely between them.

 

Mallory takes Q’s hand and kisses it. “From the sound of it, it’s a smallish gathering of her friends so it’s not as if all of MI6 will be there. Besides, what we do while we’re off the clock isn’t anyone’s damn business. I already dislike the idea of not being able to show how much you mean to me when it’s professionally necessary, and I’m sure as hell not going to hide it outside of work. Bond, Tanner, and Moneypenny just have to deal with us being disgustingly, demonstrably in love. Then maybe they won’t invite us next time, and I can keep you home where we can be naked.” He grins at the relieved, delighted look on Q’s face.

 

“Have I told you I love you yet today?”

 

“No. Terrible oversight, really,” Mallory says in a teasingly put-out voice.

 

“Terrible. Well, I love you. But now I need to get back to work, or I’ll never get out of here.”

 

“I’ll come pick you up at seven,” Mallory promises. “I’m stealing you away for the weekend.”

 

“Well, you’re the boss,” Q replies with a smile.

 

“It has its advantages I suppose.” Mallory kisses Q then reluctantly heads out the door.

 

Q decides that the weekend is perfect and passes far too quickly. They finally decorate the tree, then split up briefly to shop for a present that is small and ‘something that is for you but is really for me,’ since they decide that will be amusing. They go shopping for their Christmas dinner and walk around the city looking at lights. They make a giant mess of the kitchen while making sugar cookies, then have wonderfully messy flour-and-frosting-coated sex on the floor and end up burning them. Q talks Mallory into going ice skating and laughs so hard his abs and cheeks hurt because Mallory is as adorably hopeless at it as he warned. Monday morning comes far too quickly.

 

“Sometimes I envy people with normal jobs and normal hours,” Mallory observes as they get dressed and prepare to go into work for a few hours since even though it’s Christmas Eve they both have things that need doing.

 

“I know. But then I get to blow things up and get paid for it and I remember my job is pretty amazing,” Q replies as he pulls a soft green jumper on. They’ll be going right to the party after work so they need to dress for both.

 

    “I get to order agents to blow things up for me, so I guess that counts,” Mallory says with a smile as he tries to decide what to wear. Two jumpers and three dress shirts have managed to sneak their way into Q’s closet.

 

“The black jumper and the dark wash jeans,” Q suggests. “The cashmere will make you even more pettable than usual.”

 

“Well that settles it then.” Mallory dresses quickly and they decide to stop at a pastry shop on the way to work for tea and croissants.

 

The day passes quickly despite how empty the building is, as any staff who could took the day off. By six o’clock they are in a cab on their way to Eve’s flat with a quick stop to pick up a bottle of wine. The door is propped open, so they climb the stairs and easily locate her door by the rather garish red tinsel wreath and the sounds of music and laughter coming from within.

 

Eve opens the door and greets them with a smile and a shouted, “You made it! Everyone, they actually came!” She is wearing a tight red velvet dress with a deep V and has clearly already been into the champagne. “You can just add your coats to the pile.” She waves at a chair already hidden beneath a dozen different coats and takes the bottle of wine Q hands her. “Thanks, handsome,” she says with a wink. “I might have to steal him for a dance sir,” she says to Mallory with a teasing smile.

 

Mallory pulls Q close and fixes Eve with his best ‘you do not want to fuck with the boss’ stare. “Try it and I’ll transfer you to the Falklands.”

 

Eve’s eyes widen and she back up a step. “Oh. I didn’t mean-”

 

Mallory laughs and breaks into a devilish smile.  “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it! Dance with him all you want, just don’t wear him out too badly. I have plans for him,” he adds in a low voice as he leans over to nip lightly at Q’s jaw.

 

“You’re evil,” Q accuses with a playful smack to Mallory’s arse.

 

Eve looks surprised and amused as she glances at Q. “I didn’t know he had a sense of humor!”

 

“Hey!” Mallory looks wounded. “Well, it’s to my benefit if people think I’m an intimidating bastard. Don’t go telling anyone I’m secretly a nice guy.”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” Eve replies with a smirk.

 

“Call me Gareth, please.” Mallory takes Eve’s hand and kisses it lightly.

 

“I can definitely see why he likes you,” Eve concedes, blushing slightly at the smooth gallantry of the kiss.

 

“And here I heard it was because he’s good in bed,” Bond interjects as he walks over, skillfully carrying three glasses of champagne and holding them out for Q and Mallory to each take one. “Glad you two could make it. I have ten pounds riding on the theory that Mallory is a better drunk dancer than Tanner. Either of you want in on the pool of who will have the best blackmail-worthy picture taken of them by the end of the evening? My money is on our lovely Eve here. That dress is a nipple slip waiting to happen.” Bond grins and slides away smoothly to the other side of the room before Eve can punch him.

 

“You could’ve ensured he was out of the country for this event you know,” Eve states, struggling to look annoyed as she glares at Mallory.  

 

“I could’ve done, but I had ten pounds riding on the fact that he would show up alone. Did he?” Mallory gives Eve a knowing look.

 

“Oddly he did,” she admits.

 

Q pulls out a bank note and hands it over to Mallory, glancing between Bond and Eve. “I’ll be damned. The evidence is still inconclusive though.”

 

“What evidence?” Eve asks, looking between them in confusion.

 

“Gareth has this theory that Bond is rather taken with you, but he doesn’t know what to do about it,” Q replies.

 

“Seriously? Bond?” Eve looks suddenly thoughtful.

 

“Care to share any information about that mission in Macau?” Mallory asks innocently.

 

“It’s classified,” she smirks with a secret smile. “But really, if he were interested I think I’d know it. He’s not what one would call shy.”

 

“It’s different when you really care,” Mallory points out, leaning in to kiss Q on the cheek. “Well, I think it’s time for a dance. I need to prove I’m a better dancer than Tanner sober as well.” He nods towards the far end of the room where Tanner and his wife are laughing and apparently doing some sort of interpretive dance to the trip hop music currently filling the flat.

 

Thanks to [Dr_girlfriend](../../../users/dr_girlfriend/pseuds/dr_girlfriend) for the awesome editing help!!

 

 

 

 

Q laughs and pulls Mallory over to the small group of dancers. “Somehow I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

 

The party turns out to be much more entertaining than they expected. They dance and have drinks and everyone shares amusing stories from the past year, choosing to ignore all of the devastation and remember the good times. They play charades, which Mallory turns out to be surprisingly and hilariously good at. They hold hands, and share a few passionate kisses under the inevitable mistletoe to loud whistles and catcalls. As the evening winds down Eve dims the lights and fills the flat with dozens of candles and puts on slow dance music.

 

Mallory whispers, “Look,” into Q’s ear as they dance.

 

Q turns his head and rests it into the crook of Mallory’s neck just in time to see Bond walk over and to where Eve is perched on a bar stool and whisper something into her ear. Eve cocks her head and smiles, then lets Bond lead her over a few steps so they can begin dancing. She looks up and gives Bond a ‘you sly devil’ look. Bond looks up at the mistletoe, gives Eve one of his rare genuine smiles, winks, then twirls them away and pulls one of her hands to his lips.

 

“Good for him,” Q murrmurrs. “I think it’s time we head home.”

 

“Home. I like that,” Mallory replies. He glances at a clock. “Merry Christmas, love.”

 

By the time they make it back they’re so sleepy and full of champagne that they only take time to brush their teeth and strip before snuggling into bed and falling asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the last chapter of the brilliant Hegwig_Dordt's birthday present. You're wonderful my dear! Thanks for inspiring me to write this!
> 
> Continued thanks to dr_girlfriend for the amazing editing!

 

When Mallory wakes it is to Q’s warm mouth sliding down his morning erection. He arches, stretching, then crosses his ankles over Q’s back. “Oh, that’s so damn good,” he murmurs sleepily, reaching down to pet Q’s hair as well.

 

“Mhmmmmmm,” Q hums in reply, loving the way Mallory’s cock jumps in his mouth at the vibration. He rocks his hips down into the bed reflexively.

 

“Turn around, let me get my mouth on you too,” Mallory urges, suddenly needing it. He’s never minded giving blow jobs, but he’s never craved it like this before. Never found this much pleasure in suckling like he’s starving for it. As soon as Q shifts position he grabs his hips and pulls them down, taking a few moments to suck gently on Q’s testicles before angling Q’s cock down so he can slide the head between his tongue and soft palate. He groans as the heady taste of pre-cum fills his mouth and Q does something particularly wicked with his tongue.

 

  Q pulls off and pants, “fucking hell that’s- switch, I want you on top.” Moving is awkward, but he really wants to be able to finger his lover at the same time and it’s much harder from this position since he’s using his forearms to hold himself up. He forces himself to pull away and tumbles over to lie on his back. He reaches over and grabs the lube as Mallory swings a leg over and immediately goes back to taking him in as deeply as possible. For a moment Q loses focus and struggles just to still his hips, then jerks in pleasure as Mallory laughs around him. “Oh don’t worry, I’ll make you forget to keep sucking too,” he promises as he pours lube onto the fingers of his right hand and immediately begins circling them over Mallory’s arsehole as he guides the temptingly bobbing length back into his mouth.

 

Mallory whines and his hips stutter, and he actually does forget to do anything other than run his tongue lightly over the hot flesh in his mouth as one of Q’s elegant fingers presses inside of him. It hurts a bit, but in that good way, and he loves it. He begs ‘more’ by pressing back and sucking harder and making the pleading noises he knows Q loves. Q complies, and then he’s lost in a feedback loop of electric pleasure. He is being filled and surrounded and he can smell Q and taste him and feel him and it’s very nearly too much to handle. His muscles are trembling and he’s digging his fingers into Q’s arse while trying to keep his own hips still. When Q moans around him and an increasingly familiar bitter warmth hits the back of his throat, it sets off his own orgasm immediately and he has to struggle not to collapse on top of his lover. Instead, he falls to the side and lies there in a blissful haze.

 

Q turns his head to kiss Mallory’s thigh since it’s all he can reach at the moment and moving sounds like far too much effort. “Happy Christmas, sexy,” he drawls as he stretches and then settles back onto the sheets in contentment.

 

“That was definitely the best Christmas present I’ve ever received,” Mallory replies, enjoying the way his body is still tingling. He never expected he could feel this happy and alive again, this ridiculously in love. He shifts position to sprawl on top of Q, who laughs in delight when Mallory licks a few wet stripes up his neck.

 

“You’re worse than a puppy,” Q giggles, squirming and pushing playfully at Mallory’s shoulders.

 

“Should I stop?” Mallory drags his tongue up Q’s jaw then across his lips.

 

“Well, I didn’t say _that_ ,” Q replies, loving the way their lips brush as he speaks. He wraps his arms and legs around the wonderfully warm body on top of him and renewed arousal ghosts gently through him as Mallory’s tongue slides across his soft palate. He knows he’s not likely to get hard again so soon, but it feels lovely just the same. He drags his nails down Mallory’s back and moans when his hair is pulled hard, feeling drunk on sensation.

 

“You make such gorgeous noises, love,” Mallory praises, pulling his knees up and sliding his arms under Q and around his shoulders so he can sit up and set Q in his lap. He tilts his head back so they can continue kissing as he holds Q close, one hand behind his neck and the other sliding down the sinuous curve of his back and over his perfect arse.

 

Q undulates his hips reflexively and whimpers into Mallory’s mouth when one finger brushes lightly across his arsehole, and his cock twitches. Pleasure pools in his stomach, and when Mallory slides a finger into his mouth without fully breaking their kiss and then circles it slickly over the same sensitive skin, he digs his fingers into his lover’s back in surprise. He feels close to coming but he’s not actually hard, and that has never happened before. He rocks up into Mallory’s stomach and shivers at how good it feels even without an erection.

 

“That’s it love, come on,” Mallory encourages when he feels the familiar tension in Q’s body. With how sensual Q is, he’s eager to test his theory that the man can come a second time without an erection. He kisses his way back down Q’s jaw and begins swiveling his own hips slowly as he sucks and nips at Q’s earlobe. He bites the sensitive skin beneath and soothes it with his tongue, whispering encouragements and endearments as he continues brushing his finger lightly between Q’s arsecheeks.       

 

Q trembles and writhes, so close but unable to quite tip over the edge and it’s both gloriously intense and maddening. “I need- I can’t-” he whines incoherently and digs his fingers and heels into Mallory’s back as he presses close, rutting helplessly.

 

“I’ve got you,” Mallory promises, sliding his hand away from Q’s arse and around to fit it awkwardly between them and palm Q’s testicles gently, slipping his middle finger down to press behind them. Q swears and arches his back into the pressure and then seems to forget to breathe as he freezes for a moment and then shudders, falling bonelessly against Mallory’s chest.  Mallory pets his back gently, then carefully tips them over sideways so he can roll and pull Q up to rest on his chest.  

 

“Oh my god that was...I’ve never...I’m officially out of commission for a while. That was amazing. You’re amazing,” Q rambles, feeling both high and exhausted as if he’s just run a marathon.

 

“I’ve never felt you so desperate; you’re breathtaking, love. I’ve wanted to try that for a while, but I needed to catch you at just the right moment. I’m not sure how easy it is for you to come dry; I’ve never been able to myself,” Mallory muses as he strokes all the sweat-slicked skin he can reach.

 

“Well I’ve never done it before either, so I don’t know. I don’t think I could survive this all the time though.”

 

“We’ll save it for special occasions then,” Mallory replies with a hint of pride in his voice.

 

“Oh go ahead and be smug, you’ve earned it.” Q shuffles up a bit so he can give his rather incredible boyfriend a kiss before snuggling into the crook of his neck. “I’m not going back to sleep, I just don’t trust my muscles to hold me up yet. Shower once I can move? Then presents?”

 

“Sounds perfect. I’d better get started on dinner as well.”

 

“Already?”

 

“You can’t rush perfection, Quillan. Besides, it’s already after ten.”

 

“Alright, I’ll be ready to move in a few minutes.”

 

“No rush. A lazy Christmas sounds perfect.” Mallory kisses Q’s hair, something he’s become extremely fond of doing, and snuggles contentedly into the sheets.

 

By the time they manage to get through a shower and put on comfy flannel trousers for tea and toast it is already eleven o’clock. They settle onto the couch, each holding the other’s wrapped gift. They finally settle on opening ‘on three’ since they can’t decide who will open theirs first.

 

Q tears open the bright red paper on the small package and immediately breaks into an amused grin. “Well, I know what we’re doing tonight before bed,” he smirks as he opens the package of edible body paint.

 

Mallory pulls an apron- the kind that only has fabric from the waist down- out of the green wrapping and laughs. “I’m guessing this is my uniform for making us dinner?” He turns it over and reads, ‘Kiss the cook.’ “Well?” He looks at Q expectantly.

 

Q leans over and kisses Mallory playfully. “I’ll turn up the heat if you want.”

 

After the light breakfast Mallory shimmies teasingly out of his trousers and ties the apron on, yelping when Q pinches his arse on the way over to the kitchen.

 

“This looks complicated,” Q observes once the island is covered with ingredients.

 

“Why don’t you just start by dicing up the celery?” Mallory suggests as he pulls out a cutting board.

 

“That I can handle,” Q agrees as he selects a knife. He has never considered cooking to be an especially erotic activity, but watching Mallory in the kitchen is a definite turn-on. Well, possibly the fact his boyfriend is practically naked is helping. He cuts up the celery, onions, and apples, then fries them up with butter and sage as he watches Mallory make pie crust from scratch. Then he mixes the contents of the pan into a bowl of bread dried bread cubes and pours chicken stock in until Mallory tells him the dressing looks ready to be stuffed into the two little cornish hens he just finished covering in salt, butter, and more sage.

 

“Impressed yet?” Mallory asks with a smile as he presses the edges of the pie crust into ridges.

 

“Extremely,” Q admits. “You’re a rather sexy chef.” He slots his body up against Mallory’s back and reaches around to pet his stomach with both hands as he kisses the nape of his neck.

 

“You’re a sexy assistant,” Mallory replies as he dumps the bowl of sugar, butter, and cinnamon coated apples into the pie and tries to focus on not breaking the top of the crust as he drapes it over the pie tin while Q continues kissing his neck. “Okay, finished,” he declares after cutting a few slots into it.

 

“Time for snuggling on the couch while we wait for it all to cook?” Q asks, tugging at the bow on the back Mallory’s apron until it comes undone and letting it drop to the floor.

 

“Sounds perfect,” Mallory agrees, turning around to tangle his fingers in Q’s hair as he kisses him.

 

They lounge on the couch under a blanket, sharing stories of childhood Christmases while the flat fills with the delicious scents of baked chicken and apple pie. The pie is finished first, and Q convinces Mallory to share a slice with him as soon as it’s cool enough to eat. They sit and feed each other bites off of one fork. “This is like a scene from a sappy rom-com,” Q comments as he licks a smear of sticky sweetness off of Mallory’s finger.

 

“I’m aware. I’m pretty much the luckiest bastard alive,” Mallory replies.

 

“Too right,” Q agrees, then laughs when Mallory punches him playfully in the shoulder. He’s about to retaliate when the buzzer on the oven goes off. “Is it done?”

 

“I’ll go check.” Mallory gets up and pulls the roasting pan out of the oven so he can stick a thermometer into the breast of one bird. “It’s done!” he calls, then pulls each of the hens out and sets them on plates to cool.  “Did you want to eat on bar stools at the counter or on the couch?”

 

“Bar stools are probably a better idea. Sorry I don’t have an actual table, but there wasn’t room once I put my little studio in,” Q apologizes as he goes to get flatware out.

 

“I could hardly care less,” Mallory assures Q as he pulls the bottle of white wine out of the fridge and opens it. He pours two glasses and offers one to Q, who takes it. “To our first Christmas together,” he toasts, raising the glass.  

 

“And to everyone stupid enough to let you go,” Q adds before tapping his glass against Mallory’s and taking a sip.

 

“I rather enjoy that you have a ridiculously sappy side,” Mallory replies, taking a sip of his own.

 

 _“I’m_ not the one who owns Titanic on DVD,” Q points out with a teasing grin.

 

“Well _I’m_ not the one who has a dozen books by Nicholas Sparks on his shelf,” Mallory counters.

 

“I’d definitely say that counts as mutually assured destruction as far as blackmail goes,” Q admits. “So I guess that means we’re stuck with each other.”

 

“I’ll suffer through,” Mallory sighs dramatically.  “Now taste, so you have another reason to keep me around.” He holds a forkful of chicken and dressing up to Q’s lips.

 

    Q takes the bite and immediately closes his eyes and hums in appreciation, because it’s mouth-wateringly good. He had been uncertain about the dressing recipe, but it’s amazing. “I think you should move in,” is what comes out in lieu of a compliment.

 

    Mallory blinks in pleased surprise. “That good, huh?”

 

    “Yes. Well no. I mean, not because of dinner, which is delicious. Because I want you here. When work goes late I want to come home to you in our bed, and I want to wake up with you. It feels like home with you here, and I want that. If you do, that is.” Q takes a big sip of his wine, aware that what he’s asking is impulsive and more than a bit crazy since they’ve only technically been dating for a few weeks. But damn it, he wants it.

 

“More than anything, actually.” Mallory replies, a thrill of excitement sparking through him at the idea of living with Q. “As long as my Titanic DVD can come with,” he adds to lighten the mood, since Q seems nervous.

 

Q laughs, delighted. “Really? Well, I suppose I can make room for it somehow. You’re serious?”

 

“Completely. At this point, all I’m doing when either of us work late is wondering if I’ll be bothering you if I come over, and if I should go to my place first and pack a bag, and wanting to be with you whenever I’m not. My flat is impersonal and empty and I have no attachment to it. I’d love to be able to call this home.”

 

“You don’t think it’s rather mad this early on in our relationship?”

 

“My grandfather proposed to my grandmother a week after they met, and they were married within a month. They’d been together fifty-five years when he passed away,” Mallory muses in reply. “Just because it’s not common doesn’t automatically make it a bad idea.”

 

“That’s sweet. I think we’ll just start with moving in together though. No need to go ring shopping just yet,” Q teases with a grin.

 

“Damn. Well, there go my New Year’s plans,” Mallory sighs. “I’m joking, Quillan,” he says when Q’s eyes widen comically.

 

“You’re an arse.” Q pokes Mallory with his fork. “So, we’re doing this?”

 

“We’re doing this,” Mallory agrees, leaning in to kiss his adorably grinning boyfriend. “Now eat before it gets cold, and we can wrap ourselves in cozy blankets on the couch and watch the Doctor Who marathon until the special airs.”

 

After they eat, they settle onto the couch with more wine and proceed to not watch a few episodes. The show ends up being background noise for sorting out the logistics and timing of moving Mallory in, as well as several extended snogging sessions. They do pay attention to the special, then share another slice of pie because they’re finally hungry enough. Q puts the instrumental Christmas playlist on, and since the sun has set the flat is lit only by the fairy lights on the tree and a few candles.

 

“Definitely the best Christmas ever,” Mallory declares, wrapping his arms tighter around Q and kissing his bare shoulder. He slides his fingers beneath the waistband of Q’s flannel trousers, the only item of clothing either of them is wearing.

 

“And I haven’t even gotten to use my present yet,” Q points out, tilting his head so he can nip at Mallory’s earlobe. He smiles when Mallory’s fingers tighten and there is a slight hitch in his breathing. “Ready to be my canvas?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.

 

“Please,” Mallory breathes. Truthfully he’s been thinking about this ever since he found out Q is a painter. The idea of watching Q’s elegant hands up close as he works, of feeling a brush against his skin...it’s indescribably erotic.

 

Q slides off the couch and takes a clean drop cloth from a cupboard then spreads it out on the thick rug in front of the tree. He selects a few brushes and brings the edible  paints over,and then instructs, “Lie down on your back.”

 

Mallory does as instructed, cock already beginning to stir when Q strips out of his trousers and gracefully moves to straddle his thighs. He’s so beautiful in the shifting shadows from candles and fairy lights that he reminds Mallory of an untouchable work of art in a gallery. The knowledge that this gorgeous, brilliant, man is his, that they belong to each other, is suddenly quite nearly overwhelming. He reaches out and runs his fingers down Q’s lightly muscled torso. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything,” he whispers. “I was resigned to life alone, and now there’s you, and sometimes I…” He shakes his head in frustration. “All I can think of are horribly cliche lines, but they’re all true.”

 

Q understands exactly what Mallory is trying to say, because he feels the same. He can’t find the right words either though, so he settles for leaning down to kiss his boyfriend fiercely, trying to communicate all of the things he can’t say, until Mallory is fully hard and clawing at his back as he arches off the floor. When Q finally sits back up they’re both breathing hard and tingling with jagged-edged arousal. He picks up a pot of red paint, and in order to scale the tension back a bit he warns, “If you so much as think, ‘Paint me like one of your French girls,’ I’m stopping.”

 

Mallory laughs, low and bright. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He places his hands on Q’s thighs, just because he wants to touch. “I’ll just lie back and enjoy this fantasy come to life.”

 

“Is it?” Q purrs, painting a swirling pattern onto the hand resting on his right thigh, then dragging a curving line all the way up to Mallory’s shoulder.

 

“Yes,” Mallory sighs, eyes fixed on the way Q’s nimble fingers hold the brush. “I’m sure we’ll end up in the shower after this, so feel free to cover as much of my skin as you want,” he offers.

 

“Who’s the hedonist now?” Q asks as he paints a sinuous line up Mallory’s cock, which jumps and smears the paint. “Hold still! You’re messing with my artistic process,” Q teases with a light smack to Mallory’s stomach.

 

“Certain parts of my anatomy are more difficult to control than others,” Mallory pants, his fingers digging into Q’s skin as he tries not to buck his hips up into the maddeningly light touch of the brush.

 

Q simply hums in reply, focused on painting a celtic knot over Mallory’s right nipple.  “Damn, messed it up.” He shakes his head in mock irritation. “I’ll have to start over I suppose,” he muses before leaning down to lick the design away. The paint tastes vaguely like strawberry icing and isn’t terribly enticing, but it’s worth it for the way Mallory swears and presses up into his mouth. Q grins wickedly as he sits up and reaches for the pot of blue paint.

 

Mallory lies there beneath his lover in the soft light, Q trailing a brush over his sensitized skin and occasionally licking or kissing it off in places, and his arousal quiets as Q continues until he feels utterly drunk with bliss. At some point Q moves on to finger painting and Mallory feels high on touch, on being loved and wanted. Q drags paint over his lips and licks it off but doesn’t really kiss him, and he whines and chases Q’s lips only to have Q laugh and kiss his eyelids instead. On some level he’s aware that he’s hard, but it doesn’t seem to matter anymore. This feels like it’s about something more than just sex, and he doesn’t feel any particular need for it to end in orgasm.

 

Q watches raptly as Mallory goes pliant under his ministrations. It’s breathtaking, and he tries to memorize each moment because such complete trust and surrender feels like a gift in itself. He doesn’t paint anything recognizable, but the swirling colors still speak of love and happiness and protection to him. When the artwork feels complete, he licks his way up Mallory’s torso and then threads his paint-streaked fingers into his lover’s hair and kisses him, heedless of the paint smearing onto his own skin. He makes a surprised noise into Mallory’s mouth as he is suddenly rolled onto his back, then another when their erections slide together since he’d almost forgotten about being hard.  

 

Mallory pushes up onto his hands and looks down at Q. The moment feels crystallized and fragile. Q is paint-smeared and so gorgeous Mallory can barely breathe. He suspects if he doesn’t do something to break the tension he’ll do something crazy--like ask Q to marry him after all. So he reaches out and dips his fingers into the pot of green paint, winks, and then smears it into Q’s hair.

 

Q squeaks in surprise but recovers quickly. “Realy? You really want to start this game?” he reaches over to dip his fingers in the nearest pot and flicks orange paint across Malloy’s smirking face.

 

Mallory laughs and retaliates by running the palms of his hands down his own painted chest and then tickling Q’s sides with them. Things degenerate fairly quickly after that as Q begins giggling and squirming and trying to get at Mallory’s feet, which are by far his most ticklish body part. By the time they give up on the wrestling match and collapse in a tangle of laughter and painted limbs they are both gasping for breath. “Truce! Truce. Ouch, my sides hurt,” Mallory pants, allowing Q to hold his hands to the ground above his head. “You win,” he concedes, his voice bright with amusement.

 

Q eyes Mallory cautiously and grins down at him, his facial muscles aching from smiling so much. He releases Mallory’s hands and sits up warily. “Promise?”

 

“I promise.” Impulsively, Mallory takes Q’s left hand and licks around the base of his paint-smeared ring finger, revealing a clean band of skin. “I’m not asking, I swear. Just...someday?”

 

Q looks at his hand, then down at his brilliant, adorable-as-hell boyfriend, who is biting his lip nervously. “I prefer titanium,” he declares with a sly smile. A moment later he is being pulled back down and thoroughly kissed, while outside the snow begins to fall.

 

 

The End

 

 

 

 

If you are looking for something else to read, dr_girlfriend's 00Q [Quriosity](../../889021/chapters/1714459) story is amazing!

 

           

**Author's Note:**

> http://www.extremetech.com/extreme/133802-sorry-you-will-never-ride-see-or-pet-a-cloned-dinosaur - source for the dino DNA info.
> 
> http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/j.2044-8317.2011.02021.x/abstract- Source for the article Mallory wrote.


End file.
